Thursday, March 30, 2006
It's almost 1:00am. I have yet to start a biz-nass assignment that I need to email to my fellow group members by 8:00am and yet I just spent the day doing the following:
Sleeping in. Straightening my hair (thanks Ash).
Loving the fantastic weather.
Messing up a Sudoku. Putting my feet up.
Sipping a Green Tea Chiller.
Depositing cheques. Receiving compliments.
Making tuna salad. Eating tuna salad.
Talking to the roomie. Eating chocolate.
Checking email, blogs, etc.
BUYING A HAIR STRAIGHTENER.
That's right! I did it! After bidding on and losing ELEVEN items, I finally snagged this baby in all it's digital-ceramic-hair-straightening-at-200-degrees glory. That'll burn your fingerprints right off if you're not careful. (Note to self: Be careful.)
So I'm officially $40 USD poorer now, but it's much better than sitting here refreshing eBay pages over and over. Wahoo! I'm going to have really straight hair!
Oh, and it's totally going to be 12 degrees tomorrow - off come the opression of socks and closed-toed shoes! Finally - good riddance to winter!
*6:15am - I'm still awake. No sleeping allowed. The sun is up. Almost. Done. Biz. Nass.
**7:10am - Success! Done done done. Sun sun sun is up and out. One roommate's alarm has been going off for almost an hour now and the other roommate just came upstairs to shower before heading off to work. I think it's time for me to go to bed....for three hours. YAY for poor time management skills! GO ME!
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
In case you didn't already listen to me wailing on your machine, I MISS YOU. YES, YOU! SHIRLEY! I think America gave me a case of the gays again. It only happens on vacation, I promise. I'll be back to my icy, jerk-like self after you FUCKING CALL ME.* No, you're busy with that paper you refused to start early, right? K, I understand. But you know, if you ever like, I dunno... miss me back or anything, you can, I guess, call me. Or something.
Heart and spleen,
Haha, I made you call me first!
Yeah, I suppose I miss you too...but only when I'm not thinking about Asian immigrants coming to Canada and the effect their mental health issues have on their parenting and thus, their children's well-being and behaviour, whether they be foreign or native born.
I was up until 4:45am this morning and I have a feeling I won't sleep tonight. YAY! So after I hand in this 12-page bad boy on Tuesday night, I get to start my huge ass business assignment that's due Thursday night and when THAT'S done, I get to start my sociology of religion paper that I'll have to email to my prof on Saturday evening because I'M IN THE THROES OF ACADEMIC HELL.
Then on Sunday morning at 6:30am I'm going to meet 3 coach drivers, 10 teachers and and 108 elementary students for 4 fun-filled days in Quebec! YAAAY!
At the very least, my boss is paying for me to fly home from Montreal so I can get back to school on time to write 1 more 40% research paper (because 2 the week before wasn't enough) and 4 EXAMS IN 5 DAYS.
Mother of God.
So, how about I call you on April 13th?
WHATTT? You can check your email 56749375 times a day but you can't even talk to me? Not even for a little bit? Little itty bitty bit? Teensy weensy bit? FIIIINE. It's not like I have NEWS to tell you. (I don't, really. Unless you consider the huge glowing red hickey on my throat 'news'.) Just promise me that on the 382947th time you check your email, you'll keep me posted on life, sanity, whatevers.
It's 4:15am. And I'm still awake. But my paper isn't done.
I came home a bit before 1:00am after my FYC social and I got your messages. I thoroughly enjoyed the rousing choruses of "I MIIISSSS YOUUUUU". I think it's been a while since anyone missed me. And damn woman, you did sound like you got hit by a truck. Funnily enough, you sounded kind of like me! This throat infection sucks monkey balls and swallowing my spit hurts. I suppose the raspy voice is kind of sexy though. Except when I squeak. Right now I'm squinting at the screen beacuse my eyes are getting blurry again - damn eye infections.
Speaking of things that are red, what's this about a hickey? You found a boy in the states to make out with? Hold your horsies on that story. I think I'm going to call you Wednesday night during a break that I'm going to take when I'm working on my bitch-ass business assignment. Think you can wait that long? Feel free to leave more loving messages on my machine to cheer me up when I come home from campus tomorrow.
Wow. This email was more coherent than I thought it would be. Not bad for 4:30am.
I think I'm going to post this on my blog.
*If that doesn't say loving best friend, I don't know what does.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
I'm in a rotten mood. Like an orange going moldy from the inside and is thusly turning the outside to mush kind of rotten.
All I want is a hair straightener. A Chi ceramic hair straightener. Ever since I washed my hair after I got it cut, it's been pouffy and I can't get it to look as sleek as the stylist did. I can't get back to that walking out of the salon with a fresh new look kind of look. And I want that. So I've been on eBay for days on end now trying to bid on these fancy Chi hair straighteners and my goodness, these women are CRAZY. I've bid on and lost NINE items because I can't keep up with them. The rates at which they outbid! The speed and agility and strategy. It's frustrating, but impressive.
I'm desperate here people. All I want is a hair straightener. I don't have time to constantly monitor eBay and change my bids because it's a waste of time and I've made it a priority and there's nothing as bad as getting your priorities all out of whack. I'm stressed out with school and I have three papers due this week, a major tour (120 kids and me, remember?) to take on the weekend, another paper due the next week, and exams coming up the weekend after. And then there's my jobs and the fact that I'm sick with a cold and a throat infection and an eye infection in both eyes (yes, the pink eye spread - woohoo!) and the fact that I'm realizing that I have shitty friends and the only person in town that I can depend on is my roomie and people generally don't care and they suck. Not to mention the fact that I'm dealing with housing issues right now and I'm in a lab on campus on a Sunday night working on a twelve page paper that is totally not writing itself when there are inconsiderate people all around me doing GROUP WORK in a QUIET LAB when they should really just shut the fuck up and leave.
(I know I'm totally playing the angsty role right now and I'm sure it's annoying as all hell to keep reading shite like this, but lemme tell ya: It's much more annoying to be feeling this day after day. I don't like the people I know and used to call friends of mine because they treat me like something disposable; I need to cut the crap ones out of my life and move on and find better friends, because I'm positive there are better ones out there and I know there's got to be more to life than this. (Ever notice how the word 'this' is the same as the word 'shit', but the letters are just mixed around? So, this = shit. This is shit. Neato, huh?))
All I want is a hair straightener.
Updateroo: Okay, so not everyone is a jerk and I know that. Miss Ashley, for example, showed up to the campus computer lab that I've been in for six hours at 12:30am with a CocoPuffs Milk n' Cereal bar, cheese and crackers, and a fruit cup all for me (for herself she has Pop Tarts, a can of coke, Red Bull, Advil and lip balm). You may remember her from here, the BSB concert that I never really wrote about/followed up on, skydiving(!) and oh, there's lots of other fun adventures that we've had that are too cool to chronicle on this bloggy blog. Ooh, and I spent St. Patrick's Day with her - photos of that debaucherous night to come!
Friday, March 24, 2006
A Belated Fr!nge Recap
When I'm not being tardy with my update-type posts, I can be an angel. See? Blurry, but still angelic, yes?
So, the play went well. At least, in the eyes of the cast and crew involved. I kind of wish I wrote about it directly after the Fringe Fest was over, or after opening night when I came home elated because our performance went so well. I've kind of lost that lovin' feeling since then, but oh well, I try.
Pre-Show: The Cast & Crew
Some good bits: We got lots of compliments and many wonderful things were said to us after each of the shows. People/friends/strangers came up to us right afterwards, while we were cleaning the stage etc. and that was nice, becuase being showered with compliments is always...nice.
Show: Me as The Foul-Mouthed Street-Kid Turned Angel-Muse
A man in a beret came up to me on Thursday night and started chatting about art and artists and theater and all sorts of random things. I eventually tuned out which I felt bad for afterwards because I found out he was something of a talent scout. Whoopsies. I got his card and I've since gotten in touch to see what he's up to and of course, to apologize for my stupid-rudeness. My two favourite parts were when I found out that we made a boy cry four times (a boy! cry! four times!) and when the man in the beret said, "I wish you guys were a band so I could buy your CD." Cutest and best compliment ever.
Post-Show: The Players
And of course, I can never forget the friends who came to the show. Thanks peeps. I know I said thank you for coming a gazillion times and such, but your support means a lot to me, especially during a time when many were giving excuses left right and center about being too busy, which is fine because things do get busy, but I heart the ones who came because y'all made it a priority. Schpanks.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
New season, new digs in every way possible. New haircut, new ideas, new plans, new take on life. I've had to make some pretty big and difficult decisions lately, but I think that things will work out just fine in the end. Change, so much change! I gotta tell you, I CAN'T WAIT for the next year and a half. It's going to be a good 18 months. Especially the next four. Can't wait.
(In the meantime, the next month will be hell on wheels because I've got four big papers to write, five full exams, an early tour to Quebec City (get this: THREE coach buses and me. That's ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY CHILDREN and ME. Let's all hold hands and pray that I'll come back alive, yes?), paperwork, some shopping for new gadgets and a lot of stuff to clean out and get rid of. I know, Me The Pack Rat is going to clean out her closet. Deep breath.)
I'll spill my beans eventually, but I just don't want to jinx anything right now. Besides, one thing that I don't like doing is talking to everyone about doing something big and then not have that plan come to fruition. So, rather than feeling a bit dumb because I got foiled, I'm going to wait until things are confirmed and set in stone and all that jazz before I publicly celebrate the good news. If your curiosity is too much to bear, send me an email and I'll do a bit of private, premature sharing. I'm just about ready to burst at the seams from keeping all this in anyway.
In other news, I'm sick again. After just one week of sweet, sweet healthy-ness! Damn, is this a sign that my body is revolting, or what? I suppose I could have brought this back on by being so busy, stressed out and staying up until 3am to read and then walking home in the freezing cold, but I swear, I have so much mucous in me that it's trying to leave my head by going out through my right eye. Good times.
Update at about 7:30pm: A Tale of Good, Bad and Ugly
Why is it that every time I write a happy-happy joy-joy post, something bad happens within the next few hours? See Thursday March 16, when I asked Life to Bring It On. Not only did Life do just that, Life upped and smacked me in the face with It. Granted, It was a silly ex-boy non-issue that I got over soon enough, but still. And now, about three hours ago, I'm all happy and "Yay! Everything's so swell and things are changing but things are good! I can't wait! YAY!" Well, right after I put those thoughts out there, I realize that the mucous that's trying to escape through my eye is really bugging me. One trip to the bathroom mirror later and hey, look at that! It's pink-eye! Good times indeed. (Yes, the second mucous starts coming out of one's eye, one should definitely start thinking PINK EYE and take care of it ASAP.)
So I cart my already tired arse over to Health Services only to find out that there's no doctors around who can write me a prescription. So I sigh and go down the street to the walk-in clinic. It turns out they're not taking anymore patients for the night. What luck. I look pitiful and confused and in the end, I'm the last person they admit. More than an hour later, I get called in but I realize that the pharmacy next door is closing in 10 minutes and I haven't even seen the doctor yet. And no, all the other pharmacies within walking distance are closed. The luck is definitely bad. However, the nurse convinces them to stay open for a bit longer, just to wait for me. Aw.
So I get a tube of this super-duper eye-drop stuff and I'm to take two drops twice daily. Problem: this is not your typical eye-drop stuff, it's eye-GOO. It's thick and opaque and GOOEY. This stuff is supposed to go in MY EYE? When I tried to put it in, most of it got caught in my eyelashes, probably because my eyes are in self-preservation mode and are trying to expel all gooey things from it. So I'm back on campus now, sitting here telling you this story of what goodness there is in my life, what badness arose suddenly and the ugly, ugly, pink-y red and green mucous and gooey white mess that is now my right eye (N.B.: Eyes and green mucous do not mix well. It's GREEN! What the hell is it doing in there?!). I'm already sick, I missed my night class for all this and I can barely see because this super-duper eye-goo stuff has formed a film over my eyeball and is blurring my vision. How am I supposed to read articles and write a twelve page paper like this?
And this is where I shut up, go home and cook dinner. By myself. With one eye.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
My Hair + The Big Snip = A Change
I really love my long, long hair.
Alas. Not so much anymore.
I hope that someone else will love my long hair now. In the meantime, I'm feeling pretty fabulous.
This morning, I took some time in between brekkie and loads of laundry to snap some photos and mentally prep for The Big Snip. I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself in the eye. Okay. Okay. Okay okay okay. You can do this. You can do it. Breathe. Last night, I took extra care when shampooing and conditioning; I spent more time on it, knowing that I wouldn't be able to pile hair on top of my head like that for a really, really long time. When I brushed it, I did it slowly, first separating my hair into sections and carefully working the tangles out with my fingers. I gently pulled my brush through, looked down and realized that the brush was at my waist and still going through my tresses.
About three years ago, I did the same thing. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, You can do this. Do it for the little girl. (When I was a little girl, I had hair and still, I wanted more of it. I would wear t-shirts and sweaters on my head and pretended that it was all my long, long hair. I even braided the sleeves. Now I'm imagining a little girl with no hair at all. The least I can do is share.) I made a big deal out of it three years ago: I organized a Locks of Love fundraiser at my school; I rounded up a group of girls to cut their hair, two boys to shave their heads, got people from a salon to come in for free, I had music playing, people came by during their lunch hour to watch or donate money and the community paper was there too. This time it was different. I didn't cry, first of all. And I kept it to myself mostly, went to the salon alone and am mailing my hair off to Wigs for Kids without anyone really knowing about it. It feels nice.
A related conversation took place last week that upset me a bit. I mentioned at a meeting that I was getting my hair cut because as a group, we had a lot of fun with my hair at a social once. Someone yelled out, Guess what it's for! and someone else guessed Locks of Love. I wasn't going to correct them and say Wigs for Kids, but for the record, it's going to Wigs for Kids because I donated to Locks of Love last time. The next day, I'm sitting with a guy from the meeting and he mentions that he had no idea my hair was that long until the the night before. That's really good, he said, referring to my donating of hair, It'll look really good on your resume. That's when my eyes bugged out, my jaw dropped and my stomach did a flip-flop. I gave him a pained expression that I hope only could be read as I can't believe you just said that. Look good on my resume? No. Nonononono, not at all. I'm not putting that on my resume - I never will and the stupid thought never even crossed my mind. I don't wish bad things upon this person for thinking this, I just hope that he grows a heart soon.
In any case, it's done. I missed out on my chance to be discovered by Pantene yet again and do a hair commercial for them (by the by, if you know anyone in the industry, tell them it's my lifelong dream and I'll be in touch in about three years - honestly, how do people get discovered for hair commercials anyway?), but this new do is rockin' my knee-high socks. The only challenge will be to make it look as good as the stylist did all by my lonesome self.
(Note to self: Buy a hairdryer*, some mousse**, a round brush and wake up earlier to allow for more tousling time.)
The Big Before & After
So, talk about seventeen inches of change. I feel a bit more mature, a touch more confident and a helluva lot lighter. It's almost ironic really, because when I think about it, my self-esteem seemed to reside in my hair. I knew it was beautiful and I knew that it was impressively long and healthy and I knew that I would get compliments when I pulled it out of the bun. People would coo over it and ask if it was natural. I'd flash my smile and say, Yes, it's all me! AND it's virgin. Never been dyed or permed. Upon realizing this, I thought to myself, How awful to have my confidence and esteem trapped under a hair clip. And yet, I think this applies to a lot of people - not that it's a bad thing, but hair just happens to be important in our society. We cut and style and dye it in hopes of capturing and showing off our unique personalities.
I worried about being 'ugly' before I got it cut. I poured through magazines, looked things up on websites and wondered what style would suit me best. I loved my long hair and was nervous to see it go. But now, there's no more hiding behind it. It's gone and I'm still here. I'm all growed up now, more woman than girl, still beautiful and all ready to take everything on. I feel like I just went through some ritual rite of passage. The cutting of the old, dead ends. It's a fresh, sassy start. A bit like a rebirth, really. Remember when I said I was going to dabble in some change? This is just Step One.
*Yup. I'm female and I don't own a hairdryer. How cool am I?
**Hair products scare me. I didn't even own hairspray until this past Fall.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
I'm going for that Hot Librarian look.
Damn, I'm bored.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Alex wrote this after the New Year and whenever I feel really down, I read it over and over and over again. It helps remind me that I'm not all that bad all the time. This piece of writing has brought me much comfort when I most needed it (read: lately).
He remembers me in a way that I don't, in a way that I prefer, but can't seem to capture anymore. When I read it, it's like I can't believe this is who I used to be, who I am to someone out there. Someone cares, someone thinks of me, someone wants me, of all people, to be happy. I'm going to dabble in some change in the coming months, and it is my hope that I keep whatever it is about me that inspired his post.
I've made conscious efforts not to use my real name on this place since September because I'm afraid of people being able to search for and find me, of associating me with bad things that are in my past. But this is something that I'm proud to have my name attached to - this is something that I want people to know me for.
Thank you, Alex.
Big Al | 1/02/2006 06:54:00 PM
The Shirley Manh Post
No Myth - Michael Penn
I just finished reading Shirley's latest blog post. That's some heavy shit right there. I mean...wow. I'm not saying you guys should go read it, I just need to sit down for a sec. Whew. Okay.
That New Year's Eve post really sucked. I'll say it for everyone. It was rambling and boring and the only good part was the link about Blue's death, which was actually bad when you think about it and...I'm rambling again. I want to talk about Shirley.
Is it lame that someone else's post has inspired me to write? What do you call that? I don't know, I was just reading it and it's like...it got caught in my throat or something. I'm all verklempt. I felt like I was watching a particularly emotional episode of Gilmore Girls or something. Scratch that. It was more like I was reading the recap for an episode because I missed it and with every paragraph I'm just like, "No! No way! Word?" I can't remember the last time that I talked to her about serious stuff and while I'd heard bits and pieces about her situation from other people and by checking her blog every now and then, I'd never actually seen (heard? read?) it all in one sitting. Heavy shit. A lot of her posts have been like that recently because of the freakin' holidays. I swear. The combination of snow and Christmas music and people making out with each other in the park is enough to drive anyone crazy. Everytime I read one of her mopey posts I'm just like...like...someone this amazing should never have to feel like this. But I respect her so much because she does.
Why am I saying this? I guess hanging out with her over the holidays for a minute acted as a reminder. I already mentioned before how much I enjoyed her company in Guelph. Then there was Christmas day, when her and Gary dropped by my place and I wasn't even awake yet. I think it was one in the afternoon. That was always a fantasy of mine in high school. That my chums would come and visit me one day when I was still in bed. And I'd be all groggy and disoriented and they'd think, "Man, Alex is a wreck! What an interesting life he must have." That's not how this went at all, but at least it kind of happened. Rambling, rambling...
She liked Wolf Parade, which makes her instantly cool. Even though that CD is soooo 2005. Har har har.
Let me start over.
The first time I really talked to Shirley was in grade 9 or 10, I can't recall exactly which. I only knew her as Gary's friend that he knew from his old school. It turned out that we took the same bus route. We had a lot of time to talk at the stop and, much like now, she was funny, engaging, cute, knowledgable, and not afraid to punch you in the arm. I hated stupid "Yellow Car". I don't think I ever spotted a single one. One time I thought I did, but it was "champagne coloured", which was the first time I ever heard of that colour. Now everytime I see a champagne coloured car I think of our bus talks. And I want to punch somebody.
After a while I fell for her. Hell, who wouldn't? It was a silly, mostly harmless thing and it came not only from hanging with her but from numerous microscopic incidents that would only be relevant to one such as me. I remember the day that I told her I liked her. I'd planned it with maximum strategery. I was just about to be shipped off to Panama...no...no, wait...I was about to go to Queen's University for a week (there's something else I have to write about) and I thought, "Sweet, when she rejects me I'll have a ten-day 'buffer zone' (including weekends) where I won't have to see her. I genius yes!" So I said what I had to say and nothing came of it and I felt awkward around her for a few months...no, that's not it.
Here's the part where I try honesty. Don't worry, it won't be a regular thing, I'm just trying it on. See if it makes my ass look fat.
After falling for and getting over (remember people, this is all happening in my sick, twisted mind) Shirley I still felt awkward around her for about...oh, until recently. I idolized her. I thought of her as some primordial goddess whom men should not only worship, but fight wars over and wear bizarre ceremonial clothing for. She was keen. To accept that I didn't have a shot at her in a romantic sense was a blow to my flimsy male pride. Plus, I felt stupid for being yet another guy who had a thing for her in high school (there were plenty). At the very least, I could have been original.
So yeah, I've known her for a while and I've never been perfectly comfortable with her if only because of my own insecurities. It's ridiculous. I remember that I'd always be afraid to invite her to my birthday or other get-togethers because I thought she'd be "busy". And by "busy", I mean I thought that she was too cool for us. Or something. That's how insane I was in high school...and in 1st year university...and 2nd year...and five seconds ago...but I digress.
Shirley is wicked-smart, though I always forget what she's doing in school. I remember that Shirley used to be involved in everything at Markham District, which blew my mind. She was like freaking Jamie Madrox. Shirley is capable of feeling bad about the smallest things (like broken toy chandeliers). Shirley can make you feel like the most important person in the world. Shirley is a good actress, or so I've been told. Shirley is extremely brave, but also extremely dumb if she thinks that jumping out of a plane at a gajillion feet in the air is somehow supposed to be "fun". Shirley never ceases to surprise me. Shirley is one of the coolest people I've ever met. Shirley is one of the most terrifying people I know.
It's not there, damn it. It's not in there. Everything I have to say about her. I wish I'd known her differently in high school. I don't know exactly how else we could have met, but just differently. She lives, like, ten minutes walking distance from my house. We could have spent so much time together, though I doubt she would have wanted to. Too bad I was scared. Not anymore, though. I feel like I can comfortably call her a friend of mine now. When people ask if I know Shirley, or if I know of Shirley I feel I can say that I know her. Not that well, mind you, but enough for now.
I gave up hope a long time ago that her and I would ever be friends. I thought I'd always be calling to her off in the distance from wherever the hell I am. By observing the bad (reading about her trials and tribulations) and the good (actually interacting with her) the whole relationship has been put into a new context. First I knew her as Gary's friend. Then as one of those girls in the gifted program. Then somebody I could fall in love with. Then...then...nothing. Now I know her as Shirley. No disclaimers or preconceptions necessary. No artificial flavouring. Just Shirley. Maybe she's known me for a while, but sometimes I feel like we've just met. I hope it's not too late for us.
That's New Year's for you, right there. I should change everyday, but I know I won't. I have to be reminded that time is moving on and I have to read about the happenings in someone else's life to actually even attempt to share anything of real value. Truth? I want her to read this and I want her to like it. I want school to take her mind off of all the personal drama that she's had to deal with. I want her to pursue being an actress. I met Shirley Manh the other day and I want her to be happy.
Damn, I feel sleepy now. Truth and honesty are exhausting. Was that even what that was? I'm not sure. Hey, maybe next time I'll write about that time I "went out" with Niki. Yeah, that's the ticket. Oh God. I'm out, y'all.
I think yeh were right, Jesse. I think I'll try actin' like a man.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Am I Allowed To Leave The Country Now Please?
Remember not so long ago (about 12 hours) when I asked Life to bring it on? Apparently, I forget that sometimes you get just what you asked for. Stupid stupid me.
Wow. Being stuck on an ex sure does suck.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
What A Dizzy Dance
Something about boys putting their keys into girls' locks.
I distinctly remember not wearing a bra.
This is what we remember from the first time we met, in a stuffy computer lab in the Science Building, nearly three years ago. Thanks to fate or kismet or whatever you believe in, Tudor and I miraculously met up yesterday evening so that I could get a copy of his new book. It's pretty and I'm glad I own a bit of him now.
I watched his nose twitch and his lips spread as he goofily wrote a note to me on the inside cover. So many things about him are delightfully Transylvanian - I especially enjoy his nose and his accent. (Did you know that Transylvania means through/beyond the forest in Latin?) Tudor is a number of years older than I am, but in many ways, he seems much younger even though he looked distinctly paternal last night in his work clothes. He takes pretty pictures with a big black camera that is monstrously beautiful. His intelligence both inspires and terrifies me. It's all very wonderfully intimidating.
In other news, I have yet to tell you about my Fringe play, the Vagina Monologues and my restored obsession with concerts and all things music. It's been a busy month - I'm still trying to catch my breath.
Currently listening to: Jimmy Eat World. Over and over again.
Now that most of my extra-curricular things are wrapping up, I have time to be a student again. I'm back to spending my nights in the labs on campus, reading reading reading for research papers and catching up on months' worth of work. Good times! I've got lots going on right now: schoolwork, jobs x3, finding new house-mates, planning for the summer, planning for the next school year, dinners and lunches and trips to Quebec City, and I don't want to spill all my beans just yet, in case I jinx anything. I'm enjoying the good weather, flat shoes, cancelled classes, cooking, three new pairs of dangly earrings and I just know that there's more good things to come!
Bring it on, Life.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Tonight, I went to a lecture given by Margaret Trudeau on WaterCan, a charity organization that helps provide clean drinking water to developing countries (they're currently supporting projects in Africa, and they've got a bit of a cameo in one of my much-loved movies, Millions). I came home thinking, Man, if the worst of my problems are boys and deadlines for essays, I've got it pretty easy.
I love little lectures like this. They remind me of a time not too long ago when all I wanted to do was work for Doctors Without Borders or CIDA or the Cancer Society - when all I wanted to do was help people (I'm thinking/hoping that it's still true). Not only do attending these lectures outside of class make me feel like a 'real' university student when I go to them, I always leave feeling a bit more human every time.
I'll admit it. I don't know much about life or people or how to keep going when things get rough, but I do know this much:
The feeling of being filled with a genuine (platonic) love for someone is quite simply, the best.
Breathe. In and out.
Find someone who you can go to at three in the morning, without having called, when you really just need to leave wherever it is that you are because you can't deal with it anymore; a person who has told you the code to their front door lock, a person that you can crawl into bed with when you are upset, a person that you trust and trusts you back; find this person because it doesn't matter that they've been sleeping for hours, that they are most definitely not expecting your cold, sniffling body beside them at three in the morning, because for just one teeny-tiny moment, all that matters is you.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Stumble Till You Crawl
Have you ever had one of those moments where you kind of leave your body, where you just step right outside of yourself and stand just a few feet over there and you look and you watch yourself and you think, "Wow, I can't believe this is my life"?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
I Don't Seem Obvious Do I-I-ah-ah-ah-I?
Lemme tell y'all a little sumpin' sumpin': I've been just a bit miserable lately.
Yeah yeah, I know you're all sick of hearing me whine, but this is going somewhere good. I think. So, I've been miserable and repressing a lot of crap which is no good for anyone because then it manifests itself into a big Repression Monster that resurfaces when I'm feeling particularly honest and vulnerable and then I stay on MSN until four in the morning on a school night telling everyone I'm lonely and pouring my heart out to people I wouldn't normally pour my heart out to.
So here's the deal: I'm going to take a quick minute and talk quickly about things I said I wouldn't talk about again because I thought I Was So Over It, but it turns out I'm So Not, but it's only going to last a very short time. Promise. I've been having dreams about J again which blows monkey balls because it's apparent that my mind has kidnapped him and is keeping him prisoner in my head, where I DO NOT WANT HIM because I think I'm pretty justified in saying that it's totally my turn to move on and it's pretty gosh-darned hard if my subconscious is flaunting him at me in my sleep. So that's one reason for me not feeling so hot lately.
Reason numero duo is Mr. McGreenEyes who hasn't talked to me in nearly a month because I think I scared him off with my honesty. This bugs me lots because he just stopped cold turkey; just like that and we're not friends anymore. Man, is that so Grade 6 or what? I know I'm not really losing anything by not being his friend, except for my chance at being a band groupie because he's in a band, but I'm still friends with the lead singer, so HA. It all just reminds me of J (yay) because he did the whole Cutting Me Out Of His Life Thing and I'm just shocked that it keeps happening to me (I'm feeling more and more tumourous as the days go on).
So picture all of the above making me sad. Picture me coming home from class and sitting here doing nothing because I'm sad. Then, it's time for my night class, I plug into my Discman (I'm Old School) and I'm walking to school in the rain and all I can think is, Wow pathetic fallacy! It's dark and rainy on the outside AND on the inside! Yay literary device!
Then the most miraculous thing happens. I get happy. There I am, walking to night class alone in the dark, I'm wet from the rain because I have no umbrella, I'm listening to the saddest Jimmy Eat World song ever and I'm happy! I walked right into a giant puddle without noticing and my left pant leg got soaked - I laughed! WOW, I thought to myself, I haven't been miserable in ages! This feels GREAT! I get to class (for the first time since mid-February) and not only do I manage to stay awake for the entire three hours, I ENJOY IT. Wow, Operations Management is great! I make friends with the girl beside me because I know how to use the big scary Normal Distribution chart in the back of the textbook and she doesn't, I get a free coffee from Tim Horton's and it's yummy because I put lots of sugar in it - Wow, coffee is great! I got happy for no reason! For freaks' sake!
This was The Second Best Part: Remember that day I made Dale? Yeah, I took time out of studying for my business midterm to do that. That day, I sat in a computer lab on campus for HOURS trying to, but not, studying for this massive exam. Instead, I browsed blogs, made Dale, and checked my email about seven million times. I even ended up being fifteen minutes late for this exam because I didn't manage to pull myself together until it was too late and I ran around campus trying to find a printer - yada yada, it's a long story. So there I am, A Mess! I hadn't studied all day, I wasn't ready for the exam, I was freaking LATE for it, and I even skipped two or three questions because I just didn't know how to answer them. I was convinced that I failed. I got that sucker back in class tonight and peeps, I totally got a solid A-!
I know I know, I'm a Shit Ass Ho Motherfucker who really shouldn't get away with doing so well in school when I clearly don't deserve to, but eh, what can I do? Don't hate me because I'm fabulous.
So there I am, Happy! Not to mention the fact that my insides are fucking doing laps around my heart because my body is totally not used to having caffiene and that much sugar in it all at once. So class ends and this is The Best Part: I plug into some more Jimmy Eat World, I crank Authority Song waaaay up and I fucking DANCE MY WAY HOME. I'm freaking singing OUT LOUD TO MYSELF through campus and on the sidewalks, as I jaywalk across the road and to the cars that pass me...
Oh I'm here, that means something doesn't it?
Oh won't you dance with me a little bit?
Oh you don't notice, I guess the music's too lou-ou-oud.
It's how the hustle goes, see what the jukebox knows.
Put my last quarter on, I play "Authority Song".
Honesty or mystery?
Tell me I'm not scared anymore.
Say anything you want already I'm not scared anymore.
Honesty or mystery?
Want something else?
Just tell me I'm not scared anymore.
I got no secret purpose, I don't seem obvious do I-I-ah-ah-ah-I?
I don't seem obvious do I?
I swear. I'm bipolar. Cut me out of your life while you still can!
After The Burritos
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
I Suck, Basically
I'm feeling a lot honest and a bit vulnerable right now, so I'm just going to come out and say it:
I think...I'm lonely. No, no. I know I'm lonely.
I used to be one of those people: "I'm too busy to be lonely. I don't need people, I have things to do. I don't have time for all that relationship business."
So it takes a few days of being sick, one vodka-7 and a load of exhaustion to make me realize that damn, my body is absolutely starved for intimacy. I want to be wrapped up in smells and feels and warm. And somewhere out there, I know there's someone who wants the same things with me, of all people.
(Where are you?)
I wish that there was a switch somewhere, I'd flick it and everything would just turn off, at least until I finish the semester. Feelings are lame, right? The last thing I need is to start asking myself, "Oh why don't boys like me?" On top of everything else that I'm doing, taking time to mope and feel sorry for myself is just taking more time away from my rapidly-declining-in-quality schoolwork.
Currently, in addition to revelling in self-pity, I'm also spending my days sucking at being a student. I'm embarrassed to hand in my midterm exams. It's like shit on paper. I feel as though I went to class, smeared my feces all over the exam booklet and handed it to my professor saying, "Here. Please fail me." And of course, this is AFTER they write me wonderful reference letters, this is AFTER they meet my parents at an awards ceremony, AFTER they praise me in front of my family, AFTER they tell my entire class how great I am, AFTER all those high expectations have been set. NOW is the PERFECT time for me to go and show them how much I SUCK.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Last night I wore two sweaters to bed, was cocooned in layers of blankets and comforters, and still, my body felt like it was trying to turn itself inside-out. Oh the achy-crampy-coldy-sniffly-sneezy-OH-GOD-I'M-SUFFERING-badness.
This morning I moved onto Phase Two: Phlegmy Cough. YAY!
At Health Services today, I waited a full hour and a half before anyone called me in despite the fact that all I wanted was a doctor's note to defer a midterm for goodness' sake, but oh no, a gazillion people went in before me even though the lady said there were only two ahead of me, and even when I started to cry out of upset-frustrated-ness, NO ONE CARED. Phooey.
The worst part? I got the doctor's note and now have a legit reason to defer the big, scary midterm I have tomorrow, but oh no, I'm not going to tell my prof because I think I can handle cramming three months worth of sociological and religious information into my congested head in one night. I've either finally got my priorities straight, or I'm just crazy.
I miss feeling healthy.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Boston: The Phallic Food (Phood?) Edition
Annia n' Banana
This banana survived a twelve-hour Greyhound ride, half an hour of the Boston subway system and a walk around Harvard Square in her purse. Go Banana!
We went to the renowned Mike's Pastry in Boston's North End (Little Italy) for some treats because nearly everyone we met in Boston talked about Mike's Pastry like it was a mecca of all pastry shops and how we just HAD TO go there. They're famous for their Cannoli, so I got one, and boy, not only was it fun to eat, but it was damn yummy. They now ship Cannoli anywhere in the US! Try one!
Okay, so that's like what, three inches in diameter? Take that three inch diameter and multiply it by TWELVE inches in length and you have one mother of a burrito. It was bigger than MY FACE. El Pelon Taqueria is one of the best places I've ever gotten authentic Mexican food at (the other is El Taurino somewhere in LA county) and it's so very affordable. Oh, and by the by, this is totally a fish burrito. I was this close to trying a fish taco, but the guy at the counter recommended the burrito instead. Eh, next time.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Boston Gave Me A Case Of The Funnies
Exhibits One & Two: lickmyjesus.com & Bujita!
Exhibits Three and Four: No one touches our meat but us & Jews on Ice!
Exhibits Five and Six: Divine Ejaculation & Roadkill Buffet This Way!
And finally, Exhibit Seven: Got Organs?
Har har har.
Yeah, if you don't find them funny, it's not because we're weird. It's not. It's because they were You Totally Had To Be There Moments.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
My whole week has been and will continue to be filled with music and theater. Beauty.
I've been looking forward to the Metric concert since December when I bought the tickets and I cared so much about seeing them and getting to the venue early to get good spots that I cancelled two meetings, one rehearsal and rescheduled a midterm exam. Yeah. I'm hardcore.
So that was Monday night. Then. Oh, then. Then was Tuesday. Then was Stars. Oh, they made me melllt. I don't have the words to describe the beauty that they make. It's not music, it's beauty it's much, much more than that. It makes my body sway and my eyes flutter and my breaths full and deep. It makes me want to say to all boys from now on, Don't make love to me, make music to me.
Details and pictures to come because I'm hella busy with rehearsals (two in a day!!) because the show goes on stage tomorrow night!
This year, I'm playing a foul-mouthed street kid/angel turned muse. It's going to be grand. This evening we rehearsed on the actual stage we're going to use for the show and I pranced all over it because I missed it that much. Oh, you.