Monday, February 28, 2005
  Pink Emergency!

Sir Squirty
Originally uploaded by septapus.
Oh man, I almost herniated with glee today when A Probable Gang member drove me home, and we passed Mingus Tourette's Pink Ambulance! And he was driving it! I wanted to ask PGM if we could turn around, but sadly, things to do (both of us) and people to see, and overlords to satiate. In retrospect though, it was sort of embarrassing because I was very excitable: "..so I was thinking about how we could do some installation--OH MY GOD, DID YOU SEE THAT??!!" And it was right by my house too. But yeah, when my mom does her little apprehensive gasps when I'm driving, it drives me crazy, so I'm glad that PGM handled the outburst well and my flustering didn't get us killed.

In other news, I finished the gawping paper of doom this morning at around five-thirty to sixish. I was actually quite impressed, because I usually don't have time for sleep or (even more disgustingly) a shower. But two and a half glorious hours of sleep later...I still feel like a human being at three thirty. Even more fucked up-- I enjoyed writing the paper. A lot. And to top it off, we had to give a little spiel of what our papers were about in class, and though mine sucked because I was a little less then alert, one of my more intelligent classmates told about his, and he wrote on the exact same stuff as I did, which of course was a mild injection of comfort to know I was afterall on the right track.

On a whim, I've been unearthing any suggestions for music that I've stumbled across lately. "A Cautionary Song" by the Decemberists is one of them, and a highly disturbing song on top of that. But good moral and sort of hard to not listen to. I've also gotten some Tech n9ne on a recommendation, as well as Andre Nickatina- so...I'll let you know how that goes. Word to the wise though: Arcade Fire is not to be underestimated in awesomeness. I should probably link this or something, but I'm too lazy.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
  I'm ready.
But I'm also quite drunk. This could become some sort of crude shout out to all my "peeps" but it won't. I treasure all of my friends, some moreso then others, and probably unheathily, but I love all you guys.

My brother goes on monday to Penticton. It turns out that the two of them have made a small "get thy sister out to visit us" fund, so I may actually go out there sometime this summer, which is actually quite amazing, because I wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise.

One beer turned into a Heinie, a Smirnoff, two shots of gawdawful shit, and a pint of beer. Not so hot, and not what I planned. I made a bathroom break of the Hilltop diner, and half wasted, I beat two regulars at pool, which was not too shabby. I was impressed with myself, but surrounded by hot married guys, TV with old Godzilla reruns, and old sappy Pearljam. And I wished I was at home in my own bed, so I left, only to meander home in that typical way of being two steps behind my body, to confront my aunt, who was apparently "worried sick" as to my whereabouts. That would be a first. And apparently, she knows the exact time I spent on her phone with Fenton, because WestJet phoned. Aha. Fuck WestJet I say, but really I said something like I usually say, which is like, "I'm sorry" repetively. That's all I ever say. It's completely facetious, but really, that is all I ever feel capable of saying to her, in that mode, because I a) don't believe she's really concerned about anything but her phone bill, or b) I don't give a shit whatsoever.

I took a "compatibility test" at True.com today. Smashing failure. It's like the thing registered everything opposite of what I said as the truth. Smashingly accurate, and full of guys who are stationed in Afghanistan or Iraq looking for fugly online action.

Talked to Mr. Pink tonight. Also not so great. He's more relieved now then anything.

Flirted with Ian's best friend who declared he wanted to screw me at their wedding. I'll have to find some way to get out of that, although he is really an awesome guy. Just not the awesome guy. Mairde. I have to get some sleep.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
  As a girl learns and epiphanizes.
Common People- by Will Shatner

She came from Greece,
she had a thirst for knowledge.
She studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College.
That's where I caught her eye.

She told me that her Dad was loaded.
I said, in that case I'll have a rum and coca-cola.
She said fine, and in thirty seconds time she said,

I want to live like common people.
I want to do whatever common people do.
I want to sleep with common people.
I want to sleep with common people, like you.

Well, what else could I do?
I said, I'll see what I can do.

I took her to a supermarket.
I don't know why, but I had to
start it somewhere, so it started there.

I said, pretend you've got no money.
She just laughed, and said
oh you're so funny. I said, yeah?
Well, I can't see anyone else smiling in here.

Are you sure you want to live like common people?
You want to see whatever common people see?
You want to sleep with common people?
You want to sleep with common people, like me?
But, she didn't understand,

She just smiled and held my hand.

Rent a flat above a shop.
Cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool.
Pretend you never went to school.

But still, you'll never get it right.
When you're lying in bed at night
watching roaches climb the wall,
if you called your Dad he could stop it all.

You'll never live like common people
You'll never do whatever common people do.
You'll never fail like common people.
You'll never watch your life slide out of view,
and dance and drink and screw

because there's nothing else to do.

Sing along with the common people.
Sing along, and it might just get you thru.'

Laugh along with the common people.
Laugh along, even though they're laughing at you

and the stupid things that you do
'cause you think that poor is cool.

Like a dog lying in a corner,
they'll bite you and never warn you.
Look out.

They'll tear your insides out
'cause everybody hates a tourist.

'Cause Everybody hates a tourist,
especially one who thinks
it's all such a laugh.

Yeah, and the chip stains' grease
will come out in the bath.

You will never understand
how it feels to live your life
with no meaning or control
and with nowhere left to go.

You're amazed that they exist
and they burn so bright,
while you can only wonder why.

Rent a flat above a shop.
Cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool.
Pretend you never went to school.

But still, you'll never get it right.
'Cause when you're lying in bed at night

watching roaches climb the wall,
if you called your Dad he could stop it all.

You'll never live like common people

You'll never do what common people do.
You'll never fail like common people.
You'll never watch your life slide out of view
and dance and drink and screw
because there's nothing else to do.

I want to sing with common people, like you.
I want to sing with common people, like you.
I want to sing with common people, like you.
  Asymmetrical girl.
Grandma and Gramps came and picked me up yesterday for my early birthday dinner and "suprise". Grandma is going to be a security guard at the Brier Cup so she is going to miss my actual birthday- which is humourous because a) what kind of security is needed at a curling tournament? b) my grandma is...my grandma. She's little paunchy and loud. I'm sure it will be ok though. As long as she doesn't have to take down anyone, in which case, they'd be dead as soon as my grandfather found out.

Anywho, we went to the Casino (the Yellowhead I think), which in retrospect, I should have guessed at because we always go to the casino. Gramps gave me twenty bucks, and I'm quite sure that I lost it all in the span of an hour. Seriously, I have no idea how people get addicted to gambling...by the time I get interested in what I'm actually doing, there's nothing left. I overplay where I should have cashed out and escaped with some dignity. I did actually win ten bucks, but we fucked that all away after dinner, down to the last six quarters that me and gramps blew on the highly illogical and badly performing one-armed bandits.

sidenote: The cash girls that fill the nickel machines wear shirts that say "slots" on the back. I'm so immature.

So we had dinner and left, and I was home at a disgustingly reasonable time for a Friday night. I worked on my essay with surprising dilligence, and now, I'm going to do more.
So...I remembered the reason that I'd only had an Abba-Zabba bar once in my life before today, today. Mairde! It's like eating a plastic safeway bag that's been melted into a bar with peanut butter inside. In fact, I should write a letter inquiring to the fate of the "recycled plastics" that inevitably occur at the Abba-Zabba bar factory. It could become a massive inquiry and lawsuit. I could make 20/20, and take off to parts unknown with a settlement paid to me to make up for the cancer that ingesting polyforms will most likely riddle my intestine with.

Interesting subject came up tonight. High libido. Irrational Acts. Oh my. Just another idiosyncracy that I'm not so "cracy" about finding similitude in that regard.

I just went to Kirk's blog, and my god. It's seriously a good read. Very out of the ordinary, but fucking well written. If you ever want to see someone successfully rip apart a sheep, a Fantasy Geek (see post two or three of the latest?), or a bag of Alpo, this is the place to go.

Today I found out that my brother is moving to BC on Monday. Wow, thanks for telling me guys, I appreciate not knowing when family is taking off to bumfuck resort region forever. And it's going to be forever, they're fucking getting married there. The woman has a good job already, and well, he never has a problem getting a job anywhere. It's not that big of a deal, but I didn't realize time to this move had elapsed so quickly. And of course, it returns to "your brother is so grown up and responsible..."

Friday, February 25, 2005
  Ah, the curious shades of embarrassment.
Time for my monthly apology over my monthly psychotic episode.... Sorry to those of you that still read this thing, because I write some pretty strange things on here when I am feeling hormonal. It's like calling your ex when you're drunk... Just another blip in the radar though, really, because I think all I ever really do when posts like the one prior to this occur, is that I follow thoughts and see where they might go (scarily so) when my subconscious fleshes them out. But, in the end, I go to sleep, and I wake up feeling fine. And realize that nothing is really as bad as I thought it could be, and that nothing is really insurmountable.

In regards to my class- it is just a class, and it is just an essay. I've written scads of them before- I actually have a damn good reference to use- so I should be fine. More then fine. Awesome, in fact, provided I can get the time to actually start on the essay, what with all my "prior committments" regarding a certain meter long model yacht.

As for money from my parents. I am grateful. It is a damn good thing they are helping me, and I really do see their logic, and hope I can do the same for my kids in the future, because I definately would if I could too.
  Naked on Jasper, my "brains are damaged."
Today has been very strange. It started out all jubilant, and then people kept staring at me, or smiling at me, and I was befuddled, and of course jumped to the conclusion of "awww, look at that poor disabled girl, let's smile so she has a chipper day." Because I'm dumb like that when I'm angry. I kept looking for excuses to be angry for the whole day. None came, except for a conversation on a St. Albert Bus (read: The Polar Express) that I kept turning around in my head so it sounded much more ignorant then it actually was (though it was quite bad) and fought the urge to turn around and scream at the old francophone lady and her stupid friend. They were talking about "the kids" and how much they feared for our "brains, because of the drugs they all take, y'know?"

Earlier, I had a sip with Mooke, and later felt bad because I was basically an uncommunicative twat on most subjects. My mind kept wandering and filling the space in the roof, rather then actually being applied to anything useful. Went to the library later, and found all books = not there. Nothing on Edward Said, and only one book (though actually very useful and fortunate a find) by Spivak. Apparently, Said is hot this semester. This essay is going to kill me. I've never been so afraid of a class in my whole life, and queerly enough, so stubbornly against asking for help. I have to stop doing that, so I'm going to stop doing that. If I fail it, whatever. Ok, not really whatever- it would kill me if I actually failed this course, but I'm starting to just think "I'm done with this" again. Done with school. Don't want no more. Go home, cut grass. So, if I fail this course, I'm going to quit school, that's that. Because I've never failed anything this serious before- I mean, the sheer mention of the cost of the course that I am failing, is incentive to give up and run for the hills. I couldn't look my parents in the face ever again if I fail this course, and dare mention that I should continue going to school after wasting their money.

That's right. Their money. My dad told me last week that I was not going to owe him any money after my degree. I have actually become one of those people that I despise so much, and it makes me feel disgusting, because I sit here at my desk and look at all the shit that mummy and daddy bought for me. The desk. The lamp. The fucking computer. And then, the kid, that boy that I love, who has nothing but a good soul that is not half as disgusting and awful as mine, enters my mind. Look at where his good parts have landed him, and look at where my bad parts have landed me. I sit here rambling shit on things I should be falling-over grateful for, but secretly detest because they are all attached to my body with long strong nylon string, weighing me down, inciting demands through purposes, "illustrating my personality", and whatever the hell else stuff does that seems to fulfill us all.

I've been thinking a lot about dirty bars in New Mexico. Unshaven hot sweaty crowds sitting around neon jukeboxes with bottles of beer and raucous laughter, stories and belligerent songs. Full moons over dirt and dry hot air smelling of cactus. Or, of the ocean at dawn from the entrance of a one person tent, dirty callused beach feet burning in the sun, freshly caught fish. Or, miles of asphalt humming by, as I sing along to the radio that plays all the trash we never admit we still like occasionally. Hm. Everything in this picture is so dirty, maybe I'm still preoccupied by pleasures of the flesh...all in jest, honest.

I have an essay to write, and things to brood over.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
My head started pounding most of the way through the conversation with Fenton. Highly forced, because I didn't feel like sitting in silence on the bus and contemplating my surroundings. A man came onto the bus looking fairly dejected and depressed, and more then a little bit drunk. He started out sitting in front of me (sideways- I always sit in the back corners of the bus if I can) and would throw doleful little glances in my direction with dark brown eyes widening in an age-pitted face. I was not uncomfortable but he manifested that perhaps he was creeping me out and moved to the seat that actually faced the front of the bus, rather then having us both sit in a wash of bourbon that lingered in the air. In the seat he vacated, a long folding knife was left behind. It was silver, and engraved with birds and flowers, despite the fact that it also looked quite fierce, and was huge- no surprising wonder that it slid out of a nylon pocket. I held it in my hands and debated whether or not it would be a good idea to inform him of my finding it, but realized a few things. Firstly, do you possibly anger a man that carries around a huge knife? Secondly, if you find a huge knife from a guy who carries a knife, do you call it to his attention that you have his weapon of choice in your hand, that you may or may not have picked off of him? He's drunk right? What if he's an angry drunk? And on and on. It's a good thing that honesty pays off, because I gave it back to him and all was good. He kept apologizing and saying that I shouldn't be scared of him because he carried it. But though I had all these questions, I realized that I hadn't been scared. I've always thought it rather foolish to be actually afraid of people. Ah ha ha...haughty.

I actually thought I'd be in bed right now, after popping some advil for all the pain. Every square inch of me feels like it's been stomped on repeatedly- which is embarrassing, because it means that I am getting old. The thing that is bothering me the most is my knee, because it is the most concrete thing I have that is showing my age- "the injury that will never ever really go away". That kills me.

Thought about sex a lot tonight. I've been considering this whole "fuckbuddy" thing again, which is so very not-a-good-idea-atall that it makes me laugh that my body would betray me into thinking it was. I honestly will not sink to this low, because it's just not worth it. I am constantly reminded that I'm at an age where I should be fucking like rabbit avec le garcon lapin, but really, it's just not cool with me. It's funny though, because I'm constantly realizing how easy it would be to get back into that game. It would be a matter of phonecalls. It's not that I'm hot shit, it's just that I know some damn pathetic boys. This is so awful that I'm saying this too, because I really just want Mr. Pink. It's stupid, but I miss knowing that he was even "with" me, my "boyfriend"- even though he never particularly acted like a boyfriend. Maybe I'm more apprehensive about dying alone then I thought.

And coffee/eating was good. I didn't have much to say, other then to offer snide remarks and talk about naughty things with the usual audacity- No interac though, made me mad. She should have fucking told us before we actually got into the meal, ordered, sat down.....seriously. But she was nice, so I feel bad for saying that. She had this whole "I'll-listen-to-your-story-and-cluck-like-your-mama" thing going on.

Tomorrow- I bust out Nirvana. It shall be good.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
  Just say no to crack.
I feel sort of strange right now. I really had an awesome time skiing, much fun and injury was had by all, but I sort of wish my mom hadn't told me the news before the whole "fun" part of my holiday began. Granted, I was able to push it out of my mind for the most part of that time somehow miraculously, it all sort of hit me at once today as soon as we landed home in this place that isn't really a home, but a gathering of the broken, the dying and the vagrant, that smells sweetly of nicotine and "breakthrough" pain meds.

I went for a quick sip with WestJet earlier on the pretext that I didn't want him coming to Keegan's with who ever is going to Keegan's later, and it was the hardest thing to just pretend like nothing was wrong, and be all chipper. I put on this really amazing (best effort ever) british accent for the whole period of time, and it was so brilliant and melancholy sounding. This sounds so strange, but it cheered me up. It's funny how you can hang out with one of your friends and still have to devise ways of amusing yourself while you listen to the things they say combined with an equal degree of whitenoise they produce that sort of irks more then anything. But this said, I don't have many friends that produce whitenoise, just the one. But we all do have our moments too, right?

But to the things that have passed: Skiing with my father and Bento was a lot of fun. We hit Sunshine with much ferocity and Lake Louise the next day with just a smidge less ferocity then the day before, that I attribute wholly to myself for being completely out of shape and sore-ish. But we did lots of moagles which always makes me happy, though on the second day, I was admittedly not doing many or avoiding them, because Lake Louise had sort of shitty snow conditions (read: not much snow at all to speak of). But Sunshine was amazing. Powdery, gorgeous and sunny, and just awesome. In the whole day, we probably only stopped for about fifteen minutes. As for the rest of the trip, we discovered that our crack shack of a hotel had an outdoor heated pool which was quite nice, as well as a hot tub and sauna which came nicely stocked with some hot Australian boys and old be-speedoed German dudes (urk). I also got to hit Welch's candy store a number of times which never ceases to delight me, and inspire fear in me (fear of bankrupting myself for candy, fear of eating myself to death via Abba-Zabba bars...etc). But it was great. And we never went hungry, food was everywhere, lining the streets, and falling out of the sky, supplementing our gorging Western Natures.

I'm in such a weird mood, but must run.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
  "A wise woman once told me, 'if you have a cunt you're fucked.' "
I think it hit me tonight that I don't have Jared anymore. I mean, I'm always going to have him as a friend, but it hit me like a physical blow to the stomach that that's what he is now. A friend. And I still think friends are more important then anything else, but I'm going to miss him a lot- from what little I saw of him anyways. I liked how comforting and strong he was, and how his eyes were so warm and laughing and always lit up when he made me laugh. And how smart he was, and damn... I know I haven't made a mistake, but I really thought that I'd gotten it right this time. And maybe it still will be right, just not right now, but who knows.

I went out for Bento's boy's birthday party tonight, and it was quite fun but I kept anticipating that my funds would run dry unexpectedly. And this is an issue for me right now, because I'm going to have to buy a bus pass soon, and some TV dinners for a certain voraciously appetited reptile. In the time that I've gotten her, she's grown half a foot. Also, she shed her first whole skin last week, which was awesome, because it's the best indicator of how healthy a reptile is, and before that one, they'd all been pretty much shredded or come off in tatters. She's healthy, yay! Ah, digression....the party was good, Bento's boy's friends are really cool and nice, though the one I am most interested in getting to know is very introverted, seemingly. WestJet and another friend of Bellan "queened off" for the whole night, it was quite hilarious.

Despite all the fun I had though, my mind sort of wandered a lot. I'd be talking and communicating just fine but my brain would be in a totally other space, and focussing on a) my doomed relationship b) my seemingly doomable future (doomable, damnable...argh), c) finances d) how I'd really rather be anywhere but here and e) how strangely enough, Fenton is really the only company that I wanted for the evening. Just chillin' over coffee and reading Bukowski. Odd, but it would have been nicer- I would have perhaps had my brain and my mouth in the same place.

Sidenote: I thought getting WestJet invited like ten minutes before the whole dinner would be a disaster, half hoping Bento's boy would just say "NO", but he got along fairly well. Loud and disruptive as usual, but it didn't seem to bother anyone much. The funny noises, maybe, but ....that's just him.

I'm a little bit wired right now, and talking to Tall. I miss hanging out with the guy, and he's actually found someone very special, which makes me really happy. He deserves it a lot after putting up with all my shat.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
  "Be a shmuck like them."
As is common knowlege already, Mr. Pink and I parted ways last night. It went about as well as any sort of breaking up, or in this case, redefining of relationship terms, can go. It got a little emotional at one point, but really, I think we both saw it coming. I have to admit though, that I callously had been unaware that he was feeling a little pressured about everything from the start. And yet he was still upset that we were relegating things back to friendship status, more upset then I was. I think he'll probably feel better about it today. Because really, I still love him no matter what, and I told him that. I had this suprising mature epiphany of how to convey all this to him too, so I'm not too worried. Basically now, we're both off the hook, no "relationship" pressures or obligations- additionally, I just asked him to tell me when he was ready. And by ready, I mean organized and willing to put in the work to make it work. And I don't think that's unfair.

With this though- there is always the hazard that I will find love before he is ready, with someone else. Or, contreversly, he might find someone else and etc. and we might not decide to try this again sometime. But returning to my initial point: I'm not going to fuck around, it's still the same as it was- I will wait for my profound connection. Admittedly, this is always easier said then done though, but really, you never know who you will meet at the supermarket.

Speaking of public spheres...there is this guy on the 1 Capilano that I always take at night on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday who smiles at me. He asked me a question once that I can't remember now, and I asked him stupidly if we were on 101st street (we were, blatantly obviously). Anywho, for some inexplicable reason, he smiles at me now whenever he sees me, and I confusingly smile back. And, today, when I was crossing the street to come back into the ed. building after coffee with Bento he was crossing in my direction, and we stopped, introduced ourselves and chatted like it was the most natural thing in the world. He's a finance major, who is interning at a bank by the library (where I usually catch the 1). I won't divulge his name, but he seems really familiar somehow. But finance major? Anyways, it's just this odd thing- I felt like mentioning it because I've been thinking about how I interact with people lately, and in return, how they interact with me. I have no bones about talking to strangers, so it isn't that mystifying, but I've been thinking about how I form relationships with people- and how it is incredibly profound how I can form great friendships with those that I meet in the most chancy (word?) circumstances.

Example: If Bento hadn't pushed me across Whyte avenue last April, and chided me for being a shy dork about going to my gateway meeting, I never would have met Fenton. Similarly, if I hadn't been sitting in that chair at that precise moment that Jake took off for nether regions of the dark bar, I probably wouldn't even have started talking to Fenton. But we did start talking, and that was that- the forming of one of my greatest friendships.

Anywho, in an unrelated matter, I've got this one line stuck in my head, "I'm all alone..." sung in the same pathetic manner as a disney character in a movie, I'm fairly certain of it.

Additionally- I started studying for my ESL midterm last night at approximately eleven-thirty, and passed out at one, with several naps in between, and then tried to read until two, but didn't make it. I stalled thusly, from seven to eleven thirty, and ended up writing the midterm this morning by the seat of my pants alone. And surprisingly, it went well. Apparently, I only need ten minutes of note review on the bus in the morning. Zootalours!

Wednesday, February 16, 2005
For my embarrassment, and your pleasure. I know what is wrong with it, don't tell me. It's so awful.
  Write on scraps of paper.
I saw a lady wearing a huge fox fur coat eating ice cream on Saturday. Sitting on the pedway over 102nd street gives me this huge omnicient observer feeling. I'm fairly certain that given an appropriate amount of boredom/free time, that I could make a hobby of curling up in the overstuffed leather armchairs and writing blips of what I see going on down below.

Fading Decadence

Her face was peeping out amongst the billowing pile of the jacket, slightly flushed from the once-warm-blooded jacket she was larsoniously burrowed into. Her face was of typical old faintly stale smelling age- the age where makeup is a blanket, not an accentuation, on paper-thin wrinkled creases. Her hair was a #89 Burnt Sienna cloud that floated and bobed as she crept along carefully nursing the colorful ice cream with a pinkish grey tongue wobbling about. The ice cream cone, grasped in carefully matching shiny kid gloves, was dangerously close to the soft shining long hair on the lapels on her coat. Impossibly close to flexing the dexterity, in a way unnatural. The smell would have been overwhelming. Perhaps a grandchild would later remark on mingled scents of sweat reminiscent of baby powder and stale medicine, embracing old treated and gamey fox-hide, kissed with hairspray and vanilla raspberry ice cream.

As A Man Rocketh

As far as I could tell, he'd missed his bus twice, maybe thrice. The old boy next to him with screwed up features was an indifferent sort, but indifferent in the manner that only those truly blessed by the light of the sun can be. He watched his hands dance in front of him, wondered what they were so excited about, and felt his body follow the pull of his wringing wriggling fingers. Leaning forward on his left foot, he seemed to look searchingly to the other side of the street, or perhaps there was something of interest splattered on the sidewalk. He leaned back slowly, a tentative gesture to examine the sky. I wondered if he saw me, wondered if I should wave. Quicker this time, he leaned forward, face closer to the sidewalk then before, and even quicker, he leaned back. His fingers beat out time nervously patting his thighs before he shoved them into the pockets of his brown corduroy jacket. And he rocked forward again, middle-aged knees fluidly bending as he rocked back, and forward again, marking the appearance of a steadily crescending rhythm born on the street. Back and forth, to and fro, so quickly that his peers at the bus stop were slightly agitated. They gawped and gaped and the rocking intensified to an impossible rate.

I wondered if you could dissappear if you stood in one spot and rocked fast enough, never being still, constantly moving air particles around you, quicker and quicker. Would it create a vacuous space? All humans are always in motion, even imperceptively so at times. I wondered if this was a defense mechanism, a returning to the clutch of a comforting mother, as the motion so often returns to. All humans, when seated, rock back and forth- it is only when you think about it that you notice it. I wondered if rocking is what holds us on the planet, apart from allowing us our stance on two feet as we run or walk around destroying everything and everyone around us. The bus came for the third or fourth time, and the man halted abruptly. The quiet fellow next to him took his hand and led him out of sight from the street.

"One must be a fox in order to recognize traps, and a lion to frighten off wolves."

In an exercise of great pretentiousness, I bought The Prince by Machiavelli (see, namedropping with no first name- I'm on the right track) today. Seriously though, I've been planning to read the book for at least three years now, based on a recommendation from my old friend Myke. It's actually a relatively easy read, which is not what I was expecting (how come pretentious books gotta be so hard to read sometimes? Just kidding). So far, it's all about how lineage or the lackthereof affects direct rule of a country. And there are some fairly apt truths to the book. I mean, no matter how pacifist we all pretend or claim to be, or want to be, it seems pretty inescapeable that, "there is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others." More universally, this would extend to any kind of conflict, not just arm wars, or other futile efforts involving our favorite double-yuh acronyms.

Additionally, a bargain bin dig at the bookstore yielded a nearly complete digest of Antonio Gaudi's work exposed bilingually. The best way to sum up Gaudi would be in the words "nature, technique and artistry" or neo-Romantic baroque (such as were some of the tastes of modernism). The guy is not overly known for much, but what he has done, is exceptional. I haven't seen that much of it yet, but he's got this thing for mosaics and really organic architecture (I always think art noveau... but not...), but man, some sculpture as well that is fucking incredible. I have books! And no money! Excitement!
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
  "Rock Island line, is a really good line...."
I sat in the sun today during my break and studied for one of my midterms. It was very pretty out today, but a little on the cold side. I have been having an interesting last few days, but I've left all the things I wanted to write somewhere else, so another time I suppose.

Had coffee with WestJet and Pinky today = a double whammy of whiny obnoxiousness. Oh, wow, I'd forgotten how much your lives suck, thanks for reminding me of that, and which people you hate in the world. It really wasn't too bad, but my past guess that they would hit it off famously because they're basically the same person minus various bodyparts, was an understatement. They were thick as thieves within ten minutes. And ganging up on me. At least the topic of Mr. Pink didn't come up, that would have been horrible.

This is really unintelligent, and yes, "not useful". Oh well.
Monday, February 14, 2005
  I went to a whore, she said my life's a bore...
The things I may or may not know about Fenton

1. Fenton has many types of smiles: The dazzling shit-eating grin for when he has bested you. The inexplicable but sad grin he gets when he's had a horrible day. The small grin he has when he's infatuated. The smile he gets when he's happy to see you even though he won't admit it. It's so creepy that I notice this stuff...

2. He has a penchant for keeping his hair the same length as his eyebrows.

3. Fenton is really intelligent. You can watch him think and tell his mind is going a million miles a minute.

4. He does have two aspects to his personality. The first one is sometimes off-putting (the hard shell of the m & m-if you don't know this) and intimidating. I admire that, because it weeds out the bad from the good people he meets and befriends, really well. The people he does befriend usually accept him as is, as a result, and hence save him from having shit friends. And of course the friends he does have absolutely adore him. Most of us- though we'd never admit it to his face.

5. He is the only person I know where "asshole" becomes a term of endearment, rather then an insult.

6. He needs his space. If you touch him, he reacts like an inflating puffer fish with spikey tines. Hugs are awkward. This has something to do with women he is not intimate with though, like he's not aware of differing sexes friendship protocol other then "hands off if you're not fucking her."

7. He talks really fast sometimes, like four notches below the speed of sound. It's actually quite impressive when it's not hard to follow.

8. Fenton is a smart-ass. He will go great lengths to illustrate a right from a wrong, and by god if the fucker isn't usually right, albeit sometimes abstractly.

9. He's prone to over-analyzing things, esp. regarding his personal life, but it always ends up saving him tons of hassle even though there are lots of little minor skirmishes.

10. Fenton never runs out of things to talk about. If it's not pressing world news that is upsetting him, he will talk at great length about details around events in one day. Any other person doing this would be boring as hell, but he always manages to be amusing. I call it "much ado about nothing"sometimes, but I still love hearing it.

11. If he doesn't like you, you will know within the first day of knowing him. If his scowl doesn't slay you, his blunt nature will. That said, he's not a bastard or anything, he just won't open up.

12. Probably one of the most honest people I know. Sometimes he feels like an ass for being so honest, but it is actually quite refreshing to see. Although, some people really can't stomach completely honest people. Which isn't to say that Fenton hasn't been guilty of a few fibs either. But not many that I've seen.

13. He's one of the best writers I've ever met. I find that I learn the most about him through the way he writes, poetry or otherwise.

14. He's got the drive and the ferocity to be a great artist if he keeps plugging at it, and doesn't restrain himself at all. Potentially in more mediums even, if he gives them a shot. I'd personally like to see him make up his own medium, he's got the creativity.

15. I'm having a really hard time writing this. Sometimes I think he does things because of expectations placed on him by one outside force or another, but not necessarily because he wants to (wow, vague, I know- like grade eleven physics). More specifically, he's more inclined to behave normal and reserved for the most part, because it seems like the "proper" thing to do.

16. That said ( he is a proper person, for the most part), he still retains his ability to shock people to no end when he chooses to.

17. He has the most stereotypical "man" feet that I've ever seen.

18. He's a little jaded in regards to experiences with the ladies.

19. Fenton is very gullible, I don't think he's been pranked nearly enough.

20. He has a strange relationship with his facial hair. Everytime he has it, he adamantly protests how much he doesn't like it, and then, keeps growing it. And growing it. I think it looks good, personally though.

21. Sometimes I feel like he really takes life much too seriously. I wish it was easier for him to kick back and relax.

22. Fenton's sense of humor is amazing when he's on a roll, and even when he's being mysogynistic. He's real witty-like.

23. Though he's very expressive, if he doesn't want you to know something, he's very good at hiding it. But also, he's got a big mouth that sometimes his innermost thoughts fall out of, without him thinking about them first. That said, I do like how sometimes he doesn't think before he says something- it's the artistic ecclectic way to be.

24. More then most people, he knows what's important in life, and what he wants for himself in the future. He's not a scary goal-setter, but he still has a pretty good idea of what he's after.

25. There is this shelf in his room that is filled with everything frog-ish. It's like an occult shrine to amphibians, and it is seriously the oddest thing in his room. Not creepy, just odd.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
  I'm the motherfucker who named you Sue.
I really hate Valentines day. Everyone who knows me, knows this, and my hatred is growing thicker by the second as the hours to the day tick by. Couples seem more glaring and in your face with their bacteria swapping, and rabid groping- and a little part of me dies everytime I realize that the only Valentines gifts I have ever
recieved, have been from my parents. Stuffed Koala bears with "XOXOX" jiffied markered on them accompanied with Hershey kisses that I end up popping like Vicodin in the vain attempt that I can sugarhigh my way to a better more complacent me.

My father and I had another heart to heart about Mr. Pink. And he is right, there is nothing "there" with between myself and Mr. Pink that is even worth making a fuss about, but the more I think about it, the more I get enraged that truly, the boy does not give a fuck about me at all. He is coming to Banff, but it's more a self-motivated thing then anything.

And the more I think about things, the more I realize I've embodied my initial worst nightmare about it all- that sex is all-encompassing in the mind of a boy who has never had sex before- and I did that to him, with the idealistic thoughts that "it won't turn out that way this time." I should have just kept my hands to myself. The other thing that my dad said, that pissed me off, was that it is inescapable that there are different values between the two of us. More specifically, he meant values regarding time, (bringing up the horrible stereotype of "Indian time") and being laid-back. He's happy when he sees me, but really just forgets me when I'm not there. And I know he does it, he's told me many times. And I pretend to be ok with that, but really, it burns little cigerette holes in my heart every time I hear it. I don't forget about him. And maybe I am settling again. At first it didn't seem like it, but now I feel like if I do stick around that I will be.

At one point I did actually believe, "don't let go, this is it- your last hope". Now, I realize that it isn't necessarily true. Rather, it is me not being able to do things the right way. In my entire life, I have not done any love-related thing the right way, and frankly, I'm fairly certain it's because I can't. But while that is all fine and negative, it isn't really- I just have to find someone who's also been as unconventional as I have.

And on that note- Happy V-Day everybody (for it is tomorrow, as well as Valentines day)! Vaginas rule. And penises can't plan.

I'm having a pretty good day so far actually. I've been listening to my old Johnny Cash and cleaning. Surprisingly, Godzilla has been pretty calm-ish for the whole day. A record breaking Sunday ("Sunday, bloody Sunday....") on the low conflict scale.

Reading week is coming! Banff! Excitement! Except Fenton isn't coming and everyone else probably is! Bugger!
Thursday, February 10, 2005
  Twenty-five things about Bento.
1. He absorbs seemingly every single piece of information set in front of him.
2. This doesn't stop him from being completely oblivious to his surroundings sometimes- Bento is the only person that makes talking and walking risky.
3.When he talks about his boy, he gets the cutest smile on his face.
4. I think he misses his family a lot more then he lets on sometimes, especially his mom and his brother.
5. One of the only people I know that can make completely "over-Em's-head" stuff make sense every time he tells you something new, or explains a concept from his courses.
6. He doesn't seem like it , but he's incredibly patient - he would make a fantastic teacher.
7. Though he's really oblivious to his surroundings sometimes, he is also a very keen observer who picks up a lot of subtlies in the behavior of people around him constantly. He would make an interesting psychologist, but ...in a Skinnerian kind of way.
8. The boy likes to talk. He takes a deep breath and he just goes. It's intimidating when you're not used to it- but whenever I hear people say, "my god Bento's intimidating" it makes me laugh, because he's so not like that.
9. In that carcass, in that place he claims sometimes to be a vacuous black hole- he is such a romantic softy.
10. Horndog. Bento is still as full of innuendo as he's ever been, but it has just taken a new slant in the last year.
11. Someone's very important anniversary is coming up for something very brave he did last year.
12. Bento has such a filthy mouth if you ever have the opportunity to hear it in action when he's mad- but it's more shocking then anything. He looks so placid, and then, whammo "you fucking cocksucking....[insert scientific derivation] bend to my will you bitch."
13. Everything I learned about being wild and spontaneous, I picked up from Bento. When we were kids, we didn't plan much- we just took off and did whatever struck our fancy.
14. Has no respect for boundaries, or barriers. Physical ones- whereas this used to lead to lots of injuries, it doesn't so much anymore.
15. He is really kindhearted
16. Bento is never coldheartedly mean to anyone, unless they deserve it.
17. He doesn't look it, but he's very tough and very capable of defending himself in any kind of fight- verbal or otherwise.
18. Bento has this knack for being in the know in any kind of cultural knowlege long before anyone else. I don't know how this happened, but it makes him very hip and knowleagable at all times. Like his boy, even though he doesn't think it.
19. The boy is crazy about Bento. Everytime I talk to the Boy in occasional encounters, he just goes on and on ad nauseum.
20. Bento is a REALLY good writer. He's always been really good at writing, and has (had) reams of journals from the past with amazing stuff in them- but- he doesn't think at all that it's "his thing" sometimes. But really, he's quite good.
21. You can always hear Bento laugh long before you see him- his laughter is enough to make anyone around explode in laughter. And when he explains why something usually so inappropriate to laugh at is funny, you totally laugh with him, you can't help it- it's infectious.
22. He can play "twinkle twinkle little star" on the guitar, and it is the saddest, yet most adorable thing I've ever seen.
23. A penchant for breaking things doth reside in the realm of Bento's being sometimes.
24. Very beautiful hands for a boy. He's all self conscious about his hands, but they are quite exceptionally attractive. That sounds so weird and possibly sick, but too bad.
25. So many more things I could say....the thing I've always loved about Bento, is his often dramatic personality. You know, when he's joking around, and he (used to) goosestep across intersections, or bound all over the place like a nut- he is always able to crack me up....to sum up- he has a very unusual and awesome sense of humor, and this is one of his greatest strengths (that, and consequentially, not taking things too seriously).
  This is all so dubious...
01. Dyed your hair (streaked it red, does that count?)
02. Been a DJ
03. Climbed a mountain (several actually)
04. Been arrested
05. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol (yeah, I killed a cow with a hand grenade too)
06. Held a tarantula.
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone (I regret this, because he was just a fuck buddy, and it gave him the absolute wrong idea)
08. Said "I love you" and meant it (I don't joke around with this. If I say it to you, you're a lucky bastard)
09. Taught yourself an art from scratch (anything I want to learn, I teach myself. Or ask my dad)
10. Done a striptease (with my own sound effects? Damn straight- except it's hard to be sexy when you're going to pee your pants from giggling so hard)
11. Bungee jumped
12. Had a booth at a street fair (I used to sell lots of handmade jewelery as a kid for spending money)
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea (I wish I'd paid more attention to that moment and enjoyed it more)
14. Stayed up all night long, and watched the sun rise (when I ran away)
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game (Oilers vs. the Flames- 1987?)
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten my own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby's diaper (my secret baby that I keep under the stairs)
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower (in PEI on a big quilt with all of my family)
24. Had to put someone you love into a nursing home
25. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
26. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment (Yesterday, I accidently laughed at the salesperson at the bridal shop- an uncontrollable and incredibly rude snicker at a bright red sequined top- I felt like such a monster)
28. Had a food fight (this seriously grossed me out)
29. Built your own PC from parts
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
31. Asked out a stranger (minimal success- sleeping with strangers, on the other hand...easy- it, I mean, not me.)
32. Had a snowball fight (Us twenty year olds vs. the fourteen year olds. We kicked their asses good.)
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip (this is seriously awesome on a calm night when you can see all the stars)
38. Taken an ice cold bath (it was a bad trip, I thought it would straighten me out)
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
40. Seen a total eclipse
41. Rode on a roller coaster (I love rollercoasters. The scarier the better. Nothing makes me nauseaus)
42. Hit a home run
43. Rode on a motorcycle
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild (my mom has some crazy hippy friends- wild mushrooms taste like dry shrivelled dirt- but there are profund amounts of edible mushrooms in AB)
48. Rode a horse (I seriously LOVE horseback riding)
49. Had major surgery (let me count my scars...)
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced (AHEM)
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (all my needs are being met right now)
53. Had amazing friends (I can't imagine who though...)
54. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (if fish count)
55. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt (I once used a terrible word on a friend that I had absolutely no grasp of the meaning of (the word), and carried that around for quite a few years before I just walked up to him and apologised. The kicker was, that he remembered, and after I'd apologised, he gave me a huge hug.)
56. Stolen a sign
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip (many)
59. Rock climbing
60. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
61. Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Changed your name
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love (only once, and not with whom you think)
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
66. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
67. Bench pressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow (and a goat)
69. Alphabetized your records (this is a favorite essay stalling tactic)
70. Pretended to be a superhero (used to play ninja turtles- I was always fucking April though- plus, there was "Super Cliche Girl" for a little bit in highschool)
71. Sung karaoke (LOVE it, and miss it actually)
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain (the stuff of dreams, really)
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it.
81. Parasailed
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog (oh let me count the names)
83. Skipped all your school reunions
84. Started a business (technically)
85. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
86. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
87. Taken a martial arts class (a few)
88. Sword fought for the honor of a woman
89. Written your own computer language
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movie
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have (Oh my)
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest
100. Rode a gondola (the boat, or the things going up ski hills and such?)
101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Found out someone was going to dump you via Blogger
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything!
108. Gone back to school
109. Performed on stage
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gotten someone fired for their actions
115. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off (fucking men- I so bitter! Never again!)
120. Been on a cruise ship
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a check
124. Had your picture in the newspaper (too many times)
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Eaten kangaroo meat
129. Been a sperm or egg donor
130. Eaten sushi (OH BABY YEAH! )
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
132. Called or written your Member of parliament (Congress person, for the Yanks) (talked to them in person, actually, lots of times)
133. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing (flights to Toronto are very possibly the most boring things ever)
134. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
138. Had plastic surgery (technically- even though it's gone now)
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived
140. Wrote articles for a large publication (four)
141. Lost over 100 pounds at one time
142. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
143. Piloted an airplane (for like twenty seconds)
144. Petted (<- incorrect. "Stroked") a stingray ? (Sea World)
145. Broken someone's heart - Too many times unfortunately
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone (my right index finger got a rock dropped on it)
150. Had sex on a moving train
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
  Dirty dirty boys.
91. My friends are the most amazing people. They make me smile when I think of them, and they make me sad when they are unhappy, but I love to help bring back their smiles and comfort them if they are low. They love me and all my quirks, they make me laugh, they inspire me, they make me think, and most of all, they help me live life to the fullest.

I just finished reading the paper - this cop thing is hitting the big time. The police chief has gone on indefinite medical leave- his daughter got inexplicably and quietly pulled from my aunt's class this afternoon. This really bodes badly for him, because it is a huge avoidance of the issue of abuse in the system, but on the other hand, I don't blame the guy, and I hope he's ok. And really, in light of the "grand inquisition" that is inevitably beginning, it's pretty much out of his hands right now. All that he's really going to have to do is give his account of what he saw going down that night - which, he didn't, because he didn't know anything about this past significantly lowered moral in the EPS since his arrival. I went for a cigarette after dinner and heard the usual cacaphony of sirens as I stood outside (inescapable- the city is so noisy to me, still) but it sort of made my skin crawl.

That's all I got. Thanks to East for helping me out with my inability to count.

  Wake me up when September ends
100 things you couldn't possibly have known about me (56-where ever I leave off before my seminar starts).

56. I am really in tune with nature. I've been taught survival skills times infinity from a very young age, and can track anything that isn't too big with lots of teeth and claws. Well, I can, but I won't- it's called self-preservation. I can walk noiselessly through the woods. And sometimes I feel like all these skills are really useless, especially in the context that I find myself in right now. But really, I could stay in the woods for days and never be bored or uncomfortable. And sometimes, I prefer it. It gives me an introspective balance that I find hard to come by in other settings. And yeah, "returning to the basics", I'm all about that.

57. I'm at my happiest when I'm sitting in a sunbeam doing art. It makes me feel like a kid again to just have all my art stuff sprawled around me in a comfortable mess, and I love the feeling of the sun hitting clothing and soaking in.

58. I can't swim very well. It's really quite embarrassing given the amount of water orientated things that I love. Despite the fact that I love water, (Seeing it, being near it, in it, whatever) it also makes me uncomfortable a little bit. My grandfather calls this a harkening back to my roots, because there are a lot of fishermen in my family who can't swim worth shit- because they rely on it for subsistence and transportation, but otherwise, harbor such a great respect (bordering on fear) for it, that they try and stay out of the drink as much as possible. The water I mean, not the whiskey. Most people have some traumatic event to harken back to in regards to their relationship or lackthereof with water, but I don't. I've always been obsessed with being in it, but somehow the swimming thing didn't come along with that. I think the biggest part is not having a charted destination- I will not swim into any unknowns.

59. I love learning new things. Even if I don't grasp it right away, I will force people to explain things I don't know about to me- often to their suprise. I ask a lot of questions, and in my later years, I write stuff down, because the old brain, she just ain't what she used to be.

60. There is nothing sexier then sleeping naked between cotton sheets.

61. I hate crying. I cry more often then I'd like, but I'm not comfortable crying around anyone, which is hilarious, because when I cry, all I want is someone there to hold me and make me feel better. My mom always finds out when I've been crying too, some sort of weird intuition, and phones me without fail now when she gets a "feeling" that my day might have been shitty. I thought it was just coincidence the first time it happened too, but no... Mom's are funny things.

62. I can't stand coconuts, anything to do with them, or synthetic banana flavor.

63. I love making sandwiches. Maybe I won't eat them, and I'll give them to someone else, but I love making them. And I do love cooking, when I'm not being watched by my aunt.

64. I really really suck at saying no to people. Like REALLY suck. This is a new thing, and I don't know how it happened. I ran into the pseudo australian on the bus the other day, and he invited me for coffee with the rest of the motley drug crew he hangs out with on Whyte, and goddamnit if I couldn't say no, and was forced to slug down my red-eye surrounded by people named Roach, Skitter, and Tweaky.

65. I am really self-conscious about my writing. Like, really self conscious about it. Not poems, because I never really have high expectations of myself in that area, but of the book that I'm writing that no one of my immediate friends has seen anything of? Oh my god. I'm so scared that I've put all this effort into it (years) and it's just going to amount to crap, even though I know when I enjoy writing something so much that usually it's good.

66. I have a penchant for imitations and accents. I really enjoy aping people and copying their modes of speech and mannerisms. So I do observe people quite closely, and that is the reason why. But the thing with the imitations and accents is that they just come out of nowhere sometimes, and are off-putting to others. And I can't perform on the spot, atall.

67. I have two more pipe dreams: one is to be a stand-up comedian. The other, is to be a screenplay writer and director. Maybe even an actress in low-budget films.

68. I have a fixation on "driving around" film footage. If I had a video camera, I would probably shoot reams of film just driving around places, with the odd dialog of my friends and I filling up the car at times, or just music as a backtrack for certain places.

69. I enjoy dressing up (ie- skirts and other girly things) occasionally, but I really do not enjoy the typical female upkeep tasks (i.e: shaving, plucking, etc.). It took me a long time to reconcile with the fact that I wasn't necessarily a slob for not liking these things, or doing them regularly.

70. I did have much of a childhood, but the childhood that I had, I enjoyed immensly.

71. I once got indefinately kicked out of a place I was staying. It was the most maddening thing ever, because it was for such a fickle reason, but sitting in my car with all my belongings in garbage bags around me, was the most awful thing ever. I had no place to go, and I felt really unwanted.

72. When I was little, I was a bit of a thief. My dad would bring me to his school board meetings in dark empty schools, and I would wander around through all the classrooms. But here's the thing: I only ever stole edible things. And, in a seperate event, 67 cents from my parent's friend's piggy bank. And even more seperately, I was never caught (except for the Pilsner incident with my dad at 17). I've also never shoplifted.

73. I've had crushes on almost all the friends I've ever had. But wouldn't you know it, these people have also become my greatest friends despite that. Dysfunctional, but awesome anyways.

74. Honesty and bluntness will always be best policy to me, but I have to admit, this is hard to do with certain people. Either the first thing that comes to my mind to say is hideously inappropriate (YUR HOT. Can I have your babies? My ass is itchy. I don't care. You get the point- speaking your mind quite blankly is sometimes overrated and troublesome), or I have to pull out ye olde strategies for diplomacy.

75. I am very diplomatic when I want to be, and an excellent mediator in any situation.

76. I can be disgustingly nice to anyone, even if I don't like them, and even if they don't like me and I know it.

77. I really dislike insincere people, and am constantly in loathe of all the times that I am, or come across as being so. That said, I can sure fake sincerity if I need to. But that goes with 76.

78. I have one white hair at the base of my neck.

79. *mumble mumble* vibrator *mumble* bought at christmas*mumble mumble*. Enjoyable, and liberating, but nothing compares to the real thing, even if I don't reach the big O very often. (I'm in Rutherford, it's embarrassing...The font on here is big enough for the whole library to see)

80. I'm not very modest. I also will do anything I'm dared to do- a specific case comes to mind where I was dared to ask a total stranger at a bus stop show my buddy his boxers. People drop trou for me!

81. I enjoy skateboarding, more as a mode of transportation. It bothers me that I have this whole "poser" thing going on sometimes, because I can't do any tricks, but it doesn't usually bother me, because what I can do on a skateboard, I can do damn well. And I love it, and really, that's the bottom line. I'd like to get a better deck though, mine is pretty uh, decomposing. A skater would say thrashed, but...we won't go there.

82. I'll try anything once...Except, sympathizing with a friend of mine- I'm not up for any back door action.

83. The girls are not the same size. They're pretty, but they're fraternal twins.

84. I am perfectly happy on my own. I also know that I have to find someone who is exactly like that, and while I'm not necessarily looking per se, when I look around me, I am finding that it is not necessarily a common characteristic. I love all the people I know dearly, but I don't feel that I'm dependent on them for much- except for my parents, regarding the bling and whatnot. I've figured out that this is why I'm so bad at keeping in touch with the friends that live away. The ones that are the same as me understand perfectly, but others...not so much, and they think I don't love them anymore. But I do.

85. I don't think that you ever stop loving anyone that you've loved at one point. You change your view of people and your relationships, but I don't think you can up and say, "oops, the love is gone. Huh."

86. The best part of my day is laughing. Just give me an opportunity, because if you don't, I'll make myself laugh at my own dumb jokes.

87. When I make friends with girls, I find that I connect instantly with the ones who are extremely well grounded, but have a fanciful or cynical look at life. Plus the girls I make friends with have a quiet and enormous inner intellect for the most part- I'm extremely picky with who I have for girlfriends, because really, I have such a hard time relating to them in general. But, with all that said, sometimes I get thrown for loops with the girls I befriend, because they're not like this at all.

88. I don't make friends easily though, period. I meet people easily, but friends are a whole nother matter. But the ones I get, are stuck with me.

89. I don't like pretty boys- I like guys who are just "hmm, this is clean", and "I forgot to shave. Oh well." That said, I don't like slobs either. It's that in-between "I've got much more important things on my mind then what kind of belt I'm wearing" kind of guy.

90. I enjoy the experience of being intimate more then the actual sexual act itself.

92. I get embarrassed surprisingly easy sometimes, and when I do, I turn into a flustery mess. It depends on the mood I'm in I suppose.

93. I get flushed like a wino after one glass of wine.

94. I constantly worry about my loved ones dying. I get really anxious for example when my grandparents go on roadtrips to California in January, or when my parents leave the country. I never used to be like this, but I worry about everything now.

95. My grandfather is my absolute favorite person in the whole world. We can sit next to each other for a whole day just reading and drinking beer, not saying a single word, and it will have been a great bonding experience. He's taught me so much about people and temperance, as well as a whole bevy of interesting knowlege and skills. Everything about my grandfather is amazing- his life, his experiences, everything- the people he's helped. No one hates him, no one would cross him, and no one would disrespect him. And he's got the biggest hands I've ever seen. I still hold my grandfather's hand when we walk, and I still just hold one finger, because I couldn't hold his whole hand when I was little and never changed. He could hold me in one hand until I was about nine months old. I have a lot of his sense of humor- this is where the corny bits come from.

96. My most favorite thing to shop for is underwear.

97. The thing that I least enjoy shopping for, which I have to do soon unfortunately, is bra shop. Goddamnit.

98. I know that if I were to get pregnant (though at this rate- it would be immaculate) at this point in time, that I would have a great support system. I also know that in my mind, I am probably ready to have a child now, but I'm also in no great hurry either. I will always advocate pro choice to anyone, but I have also realized that I myself would not be able to have an abortion. I couldn't handle it. This is just something I've realized over the years. But like I said, I'm not looking to have a baby at all until I'm ready financially and whatnot, if I have my say.

99. I would be more then comfortable being a single parent. If the time comes when I want to have kids, I don't think I'll be deterred from it if I don't have a partner. I may hit up my friends for sperm though- an indication that they are the best kind of people- that, and most of 'em aren't going to use it anyways. LOL.

100. I am very blessed, and I hope I don't forget that too often.

  The Non-Violent Challenge I extend to all of you.
Here is the site. Go and check it out. It's quite formidable, and a lot of things might be a little hard for some, but I think that even attempting it, would be quite an experience. And it's really quite simple.
Monday, February 07, 2005
  Come on everyone, and do the propaganda.
Flipping nonchalantly through the paper today was a little shocking. There was this new bit of evidence that came foreward about the little stake-out that the Edmonton area police put on that targeted a certain journalist to catch him for drinking and driving. They basically published (this has been over the span of the last two days I gather- I never read the Saturday paper) some transcripts of the radio conversations had between cars on this stake-out. And, it was so deliberated that it was fucking creepy. But also, shocking because it was such retarded behavior to begin with, and the transcripts certainly didn't do any favor for the guilty parties in this respect. The stuff in the actual conversations is not going to do amazing things for the reputation of the Edmonton police at all. The impression I got (solely based on these- I know better then to jump to a judgement based on some bad seeds, but many people will not hesitate to do so) was that:

A) It does not take a rocket scientist to be a cop.
B) There are some parties involved that are not gay-friendly, which sort of scares me, because I wonder how many more there would be out there that are like that, and so many other scary things that could go along with it.
C) Evil cops! Oh my god! These guys were fucking bastards!
D) Understandably, the journalist in question for the stake-out may or may not have committed a huge gaff in some opinion or another, but man, let it go.
E) Was it really worth the loss of a whole shatload of careers here, to make some sort of "point"? Sure, reporter X may have killed someone behind the wheel, but probably fifty other people or more could have done the same damage that night (to say nothing of the man-power that went into this "sting").
F) There was this comment of "Wow, fuck I'm getting a chubby" said ON THE RADIO. Amongst other gross things. Now, I don't know about youse guys, but firstly- professionalism in the workplace much? It's called radio protocol (there is such thing- we get drilled with it constantly at the City of Saints)! And finally- vulgar cussing cops who use slurs and harbor these kind of grudges, completely erase any ideas I once had about the brave noble and strong people that are supposed to do the protecting and serving of the people, we the fucked up society.

However, I do realize too that the cops on the EP work incredibly hard, and that I have no grasp of how hard they work- I imagine this to be the gaff probably of the drunk journalist in question- but- police in any situation have to make a correct assesment of an appropriate reaction or response to an action, correct? This has not been one of those times. Those who orchestrated the whole thing have really fucked up, and people are going to remember this for a long time to come I think- which is worrisome. I mean, if you can't trust the police, who can you trust?

My coal stove is making me sleepy

Today has been a redletter day for reading the paper. I also chanced to read that there have been a couple more cases of group suicides discovered in Japan. I've sort of been following it a little bit for the last year or so, because it struck me as interesting (horrible too) when in the first few outbreaks, they observed that the majority of them were being performed in cars, by the same means of carbon monoxide poisoning via coal stove, and that they always occurred in isolated places.

"Few stats can beat Japanese women, however; they seem to be offing themselves with impressive efficiency." Stefan Geens.

Links of interest on the topic.
Don't forget to leave a note <= (be sure to read both pages)

  Every thug needs a Lady.
So last week, I said the most horrible thing that I've said all year to anyone. And I said it to my best friend. It isn't even worth repeating in all its offal-ness, but I also realized that this will always be a huge difference between us. Not a sore point necessarily, if we cease to bicker about it, but a huge difference in opinion. So I thought I'd write a little blot on why I advocate a disregard of appearance so much when meeting people, for any means. Feel free to shoot holes in me, because by no means is this logical- it's all based on me. You knew it.

It has been argued that the physical appearance of someone undoubtedly factors into whether or not they are a good person to be with. Looks have a definite part in the initial attraction, and I discover more about personality later, blah blah blah. Well, I guess I'm fucked eh? But the thing is I've always known this. In terms of physical attractiveness, the odds are massively stacked against me. Missing parts, affected parts, you name it, not to mention all the stupid stuff that continues to plague me on top of that. Weight, skin (bad), hair, etc. But before I sound all "poor fugly girl", I really need to say, that I have come to terms with how I look. I like me, and I'm more then pleased with myself. It could have been a lot worse.

Man, I had this so well thought out, and now I've either just summed it all up and figured out that I had really nothing to say, or I've lost it all out the back of my head.

I suppose the point that I'm trying to make, is that by going off physical appearance initially is sort of self-destructive. I've always grown up with this saying my mom always told me, preventitively, or post-punishment: "Treat others how you'd like to be treated." Going with this, I think it goes to say that you should regard people as you yourself would like to be regarded.

Now, this is not to say that I'm "pure, unshallow, and unsuperficial", because I'm not. It is an inescapeable thing, it's the way we've been conditioned- like an extension off ye olde hunting and gathering and procreating. If you're hot, I'll check you out. But, by no means would approach someone on these terms. I feel like I'd be degenerating into turning whatever institution I was in, into a meat market elsewise. This is also my other point- people are people, not meat- thoughts, desires, imaginations, opinions, flaws (mental and physical). Personally, if anyone came up to me on the premise that I seemed attractive, and asked me to do something with them...I'm not so sure I'd be down with that, because I myself would never do that to anyone. I'm constantly wondering what people deprive themselves of because they practise the whole meat market thing though. But it's sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy of another kind that I observe constantly. Filling voids with strangers that are not there in the morning, and not establishing the kinds of bonds that really are important in life.

More seriously, I did in fact call my best friend a eugenicist last week. Ugh, horrible- I already know this was horrible, and really don't know why this could have even flown through my head, past the fact that I am really really sensitive about stuff like this, as you can see. And I felt terrible about it, and I don't think he's ever been as mad at me as he was in that precise moment. Very low blow. The very thought of eugenics has always put this knot in my stomach whenever I think about it. I wrote on this a long time ago, but the whole movement was not a hell of a long time ago, which scared me a lot when I learned about it. If my mom had been pregnant with me in a time like that, it would have been pretty open and shut on the verdict. And it would have been a no-go, absolutely. So, nowadays, sure, I'm failing Darwin's Law for reasons that were beyond my control, but hey, at least I'm here in the race. Sometimes I really hate the age we live in, but when I think about that, I can take an age of propoganda, unjust wars, and "terrorism" in a stride. Nothing is as frightening in my little sphere until I think about eugenics. Sure, the world is always going to be disturbing, but I deal with it, because I can. Anyways, I'm not trying to play this as a guilt card- that was not the point.

Bottom line- perhaps I'm a romantic shithead who can't explain herself on this point well at all, but everyone is beautiful in their own way, and it isn't on the surface all the time. Sometimes it's completely blinding on the surface, but sometimes it is equally blinding beneath the surface- and both are terrifying on their own, and even more terrifying if they are combined, lol. I can't stress enough that this is my own opinion though- I don't think any one person is really shallow. I think we're just all over the map, and that like marginal literature, we all have our own centers and peripheries regarding the matter. Except beautiful daft people are my margin, lol.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
  Across the street there was a Seven-Eleven. It was 7:11 PM. She gasped.
So my weekend was actually pretty good. I smoked one half a pack over three days, which, is - if you know me- considerably less then I smoke usually. I also realized that as unproductive a weekend that it probably was, that I'll be glad that I took it in about one week or so.

The weather was the right amount of sunny cold, and the air was crisp and fresh. I went snow-shoeing this afternoon through my summer (grouchy) neighbor's place, to make sure no one had been prowling around his huge yard and cabin. No one except for a curious badger, which was weird, because I've never even seen traces of badger before- but the gait in the tracks was unquestionably what it was. Davey Crockett has nothing on my mad tracking skillz. My grandpa taught me how to track when I was like eleven. I tell everyone this, but I doubt anyone believes me because only one or two of my friends have even seen me in that kind of context. Grandpa wanted to groom me to be a hunter (ess?) of moose. As soon as I discovered his plans, I foiled them- but admittedly, I take secret pleasure in being extremely comfortable in the woods in this manner. It's nice to not be someone who goes, "ok, there's some trees- beautiful- let's go." You think you see everything in one picture in the forest, but if you lower yourself to groundlevel, or raise yourself above the ground, it's a whole new multitude of things to look at. If anyone knows a dirty hippy looking for someone like me, let me know.

I heard my uncle use that phrase today, in a hostile manner as a matter of fact: "That damn dirty hippy- god, what an asshole. He made me install his phone for him, and filed bankruptcy a week later (pointing at building on bonnyville mainstreet)."

Yesterday, we went to the playcenter for kids that my mom volunteers at - I ran into three girls that graduated a year ahead of me, all of whom had children in tow. I wasn't horrified, because it's not stupid for someone my age to have kids, but I was horrified because I realized "it's just that close to me- that childbearing thing- and I wonder if I'll ever be mature enough for that." And then I overheard the conversation of the three mums regarding a houseparty, and decided that perhaps I would be mature enough.

Coming home tonight was something I've been dreading all day. And while I managed to sneak into the house relatively unnoticed, the first journey to my room was jarring.

Underneath a shoddily scotch-taped up clump of hair and yarn and thread and lint (this is like The Ring- it was horrifying) that was hanging like a scalp off my door, was a note that said "Emerson-This is the last time. The last time I will clean the head of the vacuum off because you did not (and stick it's filthy filthy contents on your door)." Missing segment: "If you do this again, I will transform into a harpy and gouge your eyes out with my scissor-like talons, vacuum up your entrails, AND MAKE YOUR PARENTS CLEAN THE HEAD! BWAH HA HA HA !!!"

My dad wrote a nasty letter to the Journal about a smoking ban at the workplace. I support him 100%, and wrote him a joke letter underneath his on his laptop equating smokers to people walking around with chainsaws. A danger to yourself and others, don't you know?

So honestly, I'm bummed about Mr. Pink. I'm bummed about my grandma's surgery. I miss my friends. They never call me.

Saturday, February 05, 2005
  Autism is fun p. 2
So I'm watching this movie called "Molly". Girl is autistic, girl's brother can't handle her anymore, and finds out that there is a surgery available (I don't have to point out that the complete feasibility of this is realistically non-existent do I?). Brother subjects sister to experimental surgery. At first, nothing seems like it's worked. But then, it kicks in and she becomes self-sustaining in a matter of weeks. And THEN, (dun DUN dun...) it starts to undo itself. She starts wishing she was autistic again, and it happens. I think she might actually die too, but I haven't gotten that far yet. But she's socially inept even when she's cured, which I think is hilarious. She also developes the hots for her brother...YARG. Hmm...she just "unlearned" how to right a bike...it's going steadily downhill. God I'm tired. But I've had too much coffee, and I'm bored, and my dad has dialup. Praise be to Telus Bonnyville.

So I've been thinking about the new site more. I think we should call it "Monosyllabic". I still want to get some specific emails of interested parties though, so let me know via gmail. Like I said, I want at least two more co-authors, not just comment poopers.

Fuck I'm bored. And growing steadily jaded.

By the way, the girl (Molly) goes to sleep, and wakes up autistic again. Innocence gained, everything else = lost. Which funnily enough, is a good thing. I've never met an unhappy autistic or other mentally disabled kid. They enjoy life like no other person can- frankly, it's enviable.

  Autism is fun. Nobody loves you, no body likes you, they're all gone without you, having fun...
I have had a pretty good day. It's funny, because by all means, it hasn't been a great day, but I am starting to be pretty indifferent to these things that govern good days over bad days lately, because I've sort of realized that the things I dwell on stupidly as being so important or significant, are not.

New developments in the Pink household that are really stupid, but have bettered my understanding of the situation of why I was not allowed to come over this weekend. I won't go into it. I unfortunately tried to drop off his toothbrush at work, but, apparently it isn't the in thing to show up at work on time- so that was a bust. I met the people he works with- it was very embarrassing, but they were nice. And Josephine (the girl he was telling me about to make me jealous) is actually an old aqquaintance of mine. We gossipped about the old staff and what happened to them (I used to work there in the building) I left the toothbrush and the fucking valentines gift, and left. I guess it's a good thing that I have no expectations of anything right now.

So perhaps I'm being a tad miserable, but it also just hit me tonight to stop being so fucking unrealistic. I think friends are better then lovers, when it comes right down to it. Although- my friends are just as bad as him when I really think about it. So I won't and I don't.

Thursday, February 03, 2005
  I am a super hot female.
In a rare display of nerd, I have something to share with you all that I'm sort of stuck on.

Theory of Counselling (Carl Rogers)

Key concepts in ideas of personality and dysfunction:

a. Conditions of worth- Interesting, because Rogers felt that essentially, every person intrinsically is good, and capable of making the right decisions, if they actual looked within themselves, and listened to themselves. He felt that humans matured problematically to distrust their conscience (only word I could think of), and rely on the guidance of others too much- Thusly, this would form mental limitations that a person starts to impose on themselves. (ie- You tell yourself you are mechanically uninclined. Your car breaks down in the jungle, and you sit there and die because you don't even try to fix anything on your car)

b. Internal frame of reference- this is pretty self explanatory and sort of covered above. But to elaborate a little more, Rogers felt that we shut down large parts of ourselves that would help us know what we want for ourselves if we didn't. It seems weird that we ignore ourselves because of our own inhibitions.

More specifically, at any given moment in time, our point of view originates from everything (EVERYTHING) we've ever experienced. This concept is important, because a counsellor has to be able to see or experience the world from some one else's world quite readily at times to understand a problem.

c. Self-Concept vs. Organismic Experience- This one is problematic because there is the idea that a good self-concept can be limiting- but some truth in the idea would be that the more flexible a self-concept is, the more adaptive and resourceful a person will be.

The Core Conditions of Carl Rogers (not related to geology...sorry.)

Necessary and Sufficient conditions of therapy are:

a. Empathy- not identification; "as if" you were the other person (regarding feelings and meanings and all that other highly formulaic garbage that's pissing me off right now)- what it is like (life I suppose) to be them.

b. Unconditional Positive Regard- Sometimes referred to as "prizing" the other person- it is directed toward them as a person, and does not mean that you approve of everything they do.

c. Congruence- Sometimes referred to as "genuineness"- a quality of authenticity and awareness of one's own feelings and experiences- does not mean transparency. Don't let it all hang out if you are a counsellor. This actually started a really stupid debate in our class, which is making me more disdainful of fellow ed. students. The more time passes, and the more I have to be around them, the more pissed off I get. I forecast the future of these ed. students as being equivalent to giving the stick of a Boeing 747 over to an autistic epileptic with a disco-ball attached to his sunglasses.

So I know that these notes are ridiculously simple, but I excluded the worst of it ("Emotions and Feelings- why are they important? They are highly helpful and adaptive most of the time" Fucking rights eh? Not to mention "from an evolutionary point of view, they (feelings and emotion) are more ancient then cognition" Ohhhh...my head hurts.)

In better news- I got a journal today on the specific mechanisms of dichronic hearing. More news on that later.

Bad news- Mr. Pink's mom informed him this morning that I could not spend the weekend due to her own fucking retarded insecurities. I'm kind of choked, but I'll still be going to my mom and dad's place for eery quiet and boredom. I have a feeling it'd be more valuable to stay at home, but it's too late to say no, so I'm reduced to a completely almost wasted weekend. At least I'll have my snowshoes. Oh snowshoes, when have you ever failed me?

  Harajuku hari-kari
I checked my blogpatrol for some reason, stalling before I wrote this post, and what do you know, someone googled Golden Har Syndrome. I encourage this person, if they ever come back, to email me, because I'd be interested in what's what. Usually these people are concerned mothers, or grandmothers looking for "cures" but hell, maybe it's a fellow deforma-tron (insensitivity comes with age and experience, sorry).

The last two days haven't exactly been that great. In a bout of apparently faulty telepathic powers on my part, I made Godzilla cry last night. You don't like tortellini, you constantly tell me this brand that I buy sucks- but I was to assume that you would have choked down my horrible food last night for the sake of being included with my parents and I at supper. Key words were used: "left out", "selfish", "unthoughtful" (ummm.....thoughtless right? That's what you meant? How thoughtless of me), "hurtful". So, I was reminded again last night of my awesome amazing evil powers.

Even funnier was the fact that beforehand my mother had a chat with me about how to cope with Godzilla for the next little while through the Second Go[TM] of things, saying that I should be as unconfrontational as possible, and just "lay low, and humor her." For some reason, I got this thought of "I'll be the Karla to your Paul Bernardo" in my mind at that point in the conversation. So, basically the summary of the instruction/"passive wisdom" was, bend over and take it for the next three months, mmmkay?

Enter the conversation with Dear Old Dad this morning: "So- you're aunt is off her rocker, ok? She's always been like this, and it's just going to get worse in the next little while. She's manipulative, selfish, and a bitch. (*gasp* did you just say the b-word?) Make sure that you don't take shit from her ok? You're not the bad person here, and I don't want to see you become her next slave- because she will enslave you if you give her the chance. Hell, you're probably partially there already. It sounds hard, but just practice saying no."

I inferred at that point that this is easier said then done and he said, "I don't care, and you shouldn't either. Say no, and walk away (holy crap)- let her rage, and yell and tantrum, but just ignore it. Once she figures out that she can't manipulate you anymore, it will cease to happen."

This was something like a one year battle of will for my dad. He's been there, done that, and now (enviously) Godzilla is completely under his thumb.

Thinking about all this (ie- the conflicting uhh...directions from the parental units) I'm going to go with a little bit of both tactics, but am leaning towards my dad's suggestions. At this point, I really probably do love her somewhere in the little icicle of my heart, but I don't want anything to do with her if necessary. Doing a future forecast, this unfortunately is going to mean that I will not be sailing this summer. I just can't. I don't know if I'm saying this because I want to hang it over her head as impetus for her to drastically change her ways (she can't sail by herself anymore), or because I am afraid for my soul and it being enslaved, and I feel like this is the only way I can surefire recover from all this stuff lately. I suppose I'll see what happens, but I'm really torn about the sailing thing. I love it- but I am tired of all the manipulation I endure because of it. If only I knew someone else with a boat, or had my own boat. God, if I had my own boat, I so wouldn't even be here right now though, ha. I'd have it in heated storage with a ladder propped up to the side and a propane stove. Home sweet home.

In other news, I foolishly downloaded the new Gwen Stefani solo stuff a while ago and ripped it to a cd with other stuff (greenday, modest mouse, hooverphonics, and whatever else) and let me tell yooo... It's absolute garbage! I grew up with Gwen in No Doubt, and loved the music, poppy punk ska - whatever you people called it, so now I'm faced with one of the biggest dissappointments I've ever seen in a band short of the big Rage Against the Machine disaster of 2000-2001 (1999?). The whole premise of the new album seems to be the kissing ass of a new fan grouping in Japan/ Japanese sub-culture (Harajuku). It's sex, drugs and bling, and all the shit music that goes along with it. I was really appalled, and now, since I'm still listening to the other stuff on the cd, it causes me great embarrassment whenever I hear a song come on from the album- to the point where I pull out the earphone and hold it away from me like a dead squirrel while slunking down in my seat (bus) and changing the song. It's fucking terrible. And WestJet is stuck on "Harajuku Girls" and sings it loud and proud whenever we hang out- oh my little walking stereotype, I want to punch you in the mouth sometimes.

An idea: We lovelorn shlubs have been pretty pathetic lately. Pathetic and embarrassing- what say we all co-author a bitch-blog and rally together "conflicted or single people" support for our fellow sad shits? I thought of this, because I know that we who go all livejournal on our main personal blogs, get embarrassed about it later. But, if we had an environment where it would be ok to be totally pathetic, and even offer each other ideas, tips, counselling- whatever- towards being single and happy instead...wouldn't that be rad? Because I'm starting to realize that if you can't be alone and be happy, you shouldn't be with someone- as in, you can't rely on other people to make you happy. It helps, but you shouldn't be doin' it. Anyways, anyone who's read this far, and who's interested, just give me a shrill scream and let me know. Originally, I was just going to start it and have everyone else do like commenting, but I'd rather have some co-authorships going on of multitudes of people.

Sidenote: you don't have to be pathetic to get in on this. Happy lonely people welcome.

Disclaimer- yeah, I'm in a relationship- it's about to end. I count.
Death involves an injury?

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