Emergency!

Moving

2006-09-26T22:46:00.000-06:00

I needed a change, a sophisticated change. So, I've moved here. I like it better.

An UProar

2006-09-18T00:26:00.000-06:00

I am starting to get "the nerves" about the Roar. I read on Saturday at the Three Bananas if anyone is interested, in the second segment. I work the morning shift, so it is doable, but not after much wrangling. I'm hoping to catch a lot more of the Roar this year than I did last year. It should be good, although I didn't get placed in the set I was hoping for. But, I'm not exactly going to be a picky bitch either. I'm excited.

But "the nerves". I haven't written a good poem in a long time. I've written, yes, but I'm going to have to figure out what it is I will read. Gah. Because yes, I have old good poems....one in particular, but I don't want to recycle it...but then, it's guaranteed good, as opposed to "completely experimental flop in front of the masses."

Oh this is dumb. I'll figure it out. Come support me, even if it makes your head hurt and your ears burn with the fire of embarrassment for me!

I hung up Roar posters in my building today. Damn are they snazzy!

Why I watch Sex TV

2006-09-17T00:39:00.000-06:00

John Paul Sartre was a very very ugly man. No doubt this sounds awful, but he had wall-eyes, and women generally found him repulsive, even the ones that loved him. But he seduced them not with looks, but words.

There's hope for me yet.

As has already been noted elsewhere, fireworks exploded by our house tonight. The only thing I could think of was that it was the first day of Oktoberfest. Good reason, good show.

We went and saw "the Last Kiss" at City Centre last night. I really really liked it. No one else did. It left me strangely restless though afterwards. I realized that my past loves have been a parade of men who don't try hard at anything, who never really put any real effort into maintaining anything outside of themselves. It's interesting, because it effectively means that I've systematically sold myself out with low expectations.

But then...isn't it bad to have expectations of your significant other? Of what they should minimally be like before you even meet them? This used to be such a taboo way of thinking for me, and now I'm like: Meet the fucking criterion, bitches, because I'll not have that anymore.

On the subject of being used.... I told Nate that I would no longer give him cigerettes. It doesn't seem like a big deal, I know, but it's a symbolic coalition that me and my co-worker have silently co-authored. Because as trite as it may sound, he needs to get a job.

Question for my audience (scanty, I know) to ponder: Being used is a part of life. It will always happen to varying degrees, for different reasons, and in different ways. Body, mind and soul sort of stuff even. But what do you do? Is it that inevitable that you must put up with it to a certain extent, or can any one person actually be completely free of it because of a certain mindset?

And: Is it a bad thing that one gets used? Does it make you a good person, a bad person, or a weak person? What about the people who use you?

This could be really a) horrible to think about b) stupid to bring up that I'm thinking and wondering about it or c) what the fuck? Who thinks about this?

Aaaaaand....I'm back to my uneasy relationship with the city.

I'm sorry, what ?

2006-09-12T01:51:00.000-06:00

This morning I awoke to the realization that yes, vacations are an escape from your problems, because you don't really realize you have to deal with all this oncoming shit (life is essentially just a torrent of oncoming shit, correct?) that you happened to just drop before you left, eventually.

That day, is three days from now. Three precious days are left for me to transform into someone who looks like they have had a relaxing and enjoyable time, who hasn't been mind-fucked with various other things in their absence, and who is ready to deal with all the things not yet dealt with and abandoned.

And I will deal with the problems when I get back in a really unsystematic order, because I'm not that much of a callous jerk. They'll get solved, and life will be convoluted and urbane once again.

I will have better things to do than just drink, smoke up, and listen to other people plan private raids on grow-ops while they smoke and drink, and fuck around on ATVS at the same time.

"Can I borrow your mag-lite?"
"Uhh...yeah. Why?"
"FUCK. Just stop asking me all these fucking questions...and gimme your damn mag-lite!!"
"Lucas, what are---are you stoned? What are you doing with my goddamn flashlight?"

I've been thinking of my long-lost friend/roommate in the time that I've been gone a lot. When I get home, there will be a concentrated effort put forth for communication. I worry still though that we might need more time to get over the threshhold of "this is how much space I've needed from you." But it's cool, no rush.

Also, in the time that I've been gone, and blogging while I'm gone, I have really really noticed my writing taking a dip into shit, so there will be more concentrated effort in this area as well, although I have been writing a little since I came out here. I am bothered by the fact that I haven't written a good poem in a hell of long time still though, despite having several ideas. On the top of the mountain I had a good idea that I'm definately going to pursue. I ended up writing it on the back of a paper plate with a piece of charcoal I found on the ground. Ooh..it stinks like romance.

I think I'm also going to write a poem talking about the quality of being brave, and how this seems to change in our lives, and why that is. I think I could make it darkly humourous. Any commentary on this is welcome.

Vampire in a forest fire

2006-09-10T22:17:00.000-06:00

I have just spent another lazy day doing not much of anything, although there have definately been key moments in the last couple of days.

We went to the "members only" beach in the village, which is the beach that all the locals go to avoid the tourists, again, and I went swimming in Okanagan Lake, which was nice, but I'm definately self conscious about my alabaster white skin around here. No tan, is unheard of-- I'm pretty much a standing dead person from the water, like a dead light-house girl guiding boats away from shore.

It was a really hot day too, the temperature was somewhere in the thirties. When I actually went swimming[1] I saw a little head poke out of the water, and discovered another snake. It was a little prairie garter snake, with beige scales flecked with black, trying to navigate easier across the bay.

Then today, snake number four was a common garter snake that my brother found on the side of the road and put in his beer holder on the dirt bike to bring home and show me. Another little runty snake, but it was still cool to see. I held it for a while, and it was pretty calm. They're much different garter snakes than home though, because they have bright orange spots that almost look fluorescent.

Today we also went up the mountain in the Scottsdale, which is this huge fire-engine red propane Chevy that my brother has (that has a small leak) to Clear Meadow Lake, which is a nice friendly name for a freshwater resevoir that has massive deforestation sites around it dating from 1987 that have only recently been replanted. It was pretty cool.

I guess the lake dries up in the fall, and the island in the middle is accessible via mudflats in a quad. Apparently it's the only place you can ever find mud around here sometimes. Anyways, the ride up was pretty rough, and the truck is very old, but it was a lot of fun. Babies have this thing about rumbling trucks too evidently, because she slept all the way up, and all the way down.

On the way down, we saw a huge toad cross the road, and a questionable horned beast (it was nighttime), as well as a Lynx. Today is also the first day of hunting season in the province, so we saw a lot of hunters as well.

The forest fires have been the hot topic around town lately, and the smoke has been really thick for the last week, but it actually cleared up a lot last night, because there was some rain. There's something like three thousand hectares on fire by Oseyoos I guess, which is now over the Washington border. People aren't worried yet, but you can tell that a lot of people have forest fires as one of their biggest phobias, which is weird to me, because it's not a mentality I ever grew up with. Yeah, they were bad, but not like "I'm shaking in my birkenstocks" bad. But, it's totally different out here. It just gets incredibly dry, so when they start, they start easily and burn fast. [2]

Anyways...I'm going to start mucking around with my brother's camera more tomorrow, so maybe I'll actually be able to throw some stuff onto flickr after...well, eons of not having the means necessary.

[1] By swimming, really I mean wading. The bay that we were in didn't get deeper than four feet in any spots. They had a huge crane parked in the middle of the bay to pound the posts for a dock they're putting in, and I could walk all the way around it in waist-deep water. You have to go really far out to be deep enough to really swim.

[2] Hello Captain Obvious. Where have you been? On vacation, yes.

"We can't stop here. This is bat country!"

2006-09-10T01:14:00.000-06:00

Hearing a regular
Shoving good fun
In a poor Scottish accent
Aussi
In the direction of the death
Of Steve Irwin
There is reality here
And I just can't trace it
With my ears alone

Sitting over half a joint
Four beers
I ash on a baby toy
Left to the heat
Sometimes the rain
And wonder of the sacredness
Of childbirth

Of a child desperate
For stimulation of the senses
She may be an artist one day
But only stimulus will tell
Or the sixteen beers
Her father throws south nightly

Because "I didn't choose this."
The choice of life was onesided
And the role of an aunt is mysterious
There are expectations
For playing on both teams
But really only playing for one
The unexpected

Yeah, suprise you drunkard
I'm on your burnt out wife's side
When it comes to familial responsibility
And the symbolism
Behind the title of 'designated driver'
Because you're designated
To do something
Perform a task
The act
The role
The stingray hunt of all time

Of the fucking responsible one.

Still a bad person

2006-09-09T15:08:00.000-06:00

2006-09-06T22:37:00.000-06:00

Since my last blog, I've realized that of course everything seems shitty on a hangover. Since said hangover, I've started having a lot more fun out here. My brother and I went riding (via ATV's) up Arrajauna road [1] which was completely fucking awesome. I always seem to forget myself when I jump on a quad and get to open it up on a gravel road. You wouldn't think this would be a good thing with a 350, but the gravel is suprisingly unslippery because of the amount of weight from the logging trucks that frequent it. I'm planning to go back up to where we ended up later this week. We ended up taking a trail to the resevoir that is really far up the side of the valley, because "the frogs are fucking amazing up there."

Yeah, frogs, I get it.

But he was totally right. I've certainly never seen frogs that large in the wild before, or prolific, apart from the mating season in CL bringing out all the woodfrogs. Most notable were the red-legged wood frog, and they're about the size of my palm, if not bigger. In the same hour, I also saw two pacific tree froglets, a brown one and a green one. I didn't realize this until later, but pacific tree frogs can actually change color, from brown to green and back. Crazy shit, I tell you.

So this...this was an awesome day.

Yesterday was really nice and relaxing. I've scouted out a coffee drinking "place" in the village that is actually pretty nice. Lots of babies and moms seem to gather there though, so I just sort of get in, and get out. I only like one baby, and one mom. And holy fuck, that baby sure frazzles her mom.

I hadn't realized just how challenging raising a baby was. It's just cry, eat, sleep, all the time, although specifically her routine is sleep, play hard, cry, eat, play, cry (she hates admitting defeat), sleep, repeat. But it's the play times that are the hardest. She has the attention span of a gnat, and she's got a short enough temper that she needs to be entertained constantly or else she'll start screaming. It's not a bad unhappy screaming, but the kid loves to hear herself do it. She's tremendously talkative. And, summing it all up, I love her dearly. She's become quite the character already.

So, enter the random really awful tangent that was part of my day today:

I decided today after an intense conversation about rattlesnakes with one of the locals yesterday, that I would jump on the quad today and follow their directions to finding one. Or two. Or swarms. I was definately imagining swarms of rattlesnakes, and the prospect was dizzying => Enter a lifelong and really obscure fascination with snakes.

So I jumped on the quad, and drove up to the KVR [2] trailhead, conveniently located five minutes away from my brother's house, and started the trail to rattlesnake mecca. Twenty minutes into the ride, I saw something tiny wriggling just out of reach of my front right tire and jumped off my quad to take a look. It was a baby gopher snake. They're really neat snakes because they have very different color variations, (like cornsnakes) and this one had a lot of red on it.

And unfortunately, the rest of the story pretty much tells itself. I found no rattlesnakes, but at the halfway point to where I was suppose to go, I did actually run over and kill an endangered species of snake. Rattlesnakes, I may remind you, are not endangered. In fact, though I have yet to see one, there are copious amounts of them in BC and Alberta. Western Yellow Bellied racers however, are endangered. In fact, on the website, they instruct you "if you see a Racer, contact your local branch of the Ministry of the Environment."

"In fact, if you smash a blue-listed [3]snake...you should definately call them and tell them that with explicit detail."

The story ends like this...I've never felt this bad about anything in a long time. It seems like a paltry thing perhaps, but the thing is that the quad didn't end its life. The quad broke its neck. I'm trying to laugh it off and everything, but I'm still pretty distraught about it. The quad didn't kill the snake. I ended up putting it out of it's misery because I couldn't decide what was worse, the pain of being left like that to just die, or having it be killed by something else...or as probably would have happened, been squished by a larger tire.

It's weighing on my conscience enormously, but I think I made the right choice. It's just weird, because I've been raised to be respectful to nature to that extent, and I never figured I would have to do that. I'm watching American Beauty right now, and have mysteriously heard, "take responsibility for your actions."

Blargh. It's been a weird post, but at least it's off my chest somewhat.

[1] I'm not shitting you, this is the real name.

[2] Kelowna Valley Railroad- converted into a multipurpose trail. If you're a lazy Washington tourist for example, you'll probably drive the whole thing in your SUV with the A/C on, and look at me contemptuously for destroying nature as you pass me. Fuck, but I did, so it was deserved. Sort of.

[3] Vulnerable to human activity!! AAGH.

God's Country

2006-09-03T14:53:00.000-06:00

So far the vacation has been interesting. I especially loved going to cash my paycheck so that my rent check does not bounce, and discovering way too late that my bosses father had forgotten to completely fill out the check...make it viable for cashing, in otherwords. So, my financial bracket is considerably narrowed for the trip, unless I can get things amended on Monday when Sam gets back.

The bus ride was a little on the long side, but it's interesting, because after something like the fifth hour, everyone on the bus is like "your buddy." You share things, you entertain each other's kids, and tell stories. I'd never been on the bus long enough to discover this. It is potentially annoying yes, but, it was interesting. I met a boy from Mississippi who was especially interesting. I think by the end of the trip we both were really curious about each other, but given the current status of both our lives (he essentially had just gotten spurned by an internet lover in Grand Prairie after going to see her), we ended up just shoving off in Kamloops (his stop) and wishing we'd see each other again while knowing we wouldn't. It was strange, because he was just very comfortable to talk to, very quickly.

Anywhoots...I'm out and about, and generally having a rednecky good time...such is the way of things around here. The weather has been good. I'm also very boring right now. I've been hanging out with BabyFace a lot, which is a lot of fun. She's been making strange with a lot of people, but so far she hasn't with me.

K, so maybe I'm getting fucking bored and lonely already.

going to shit and all that

2006-08-24T00:32:00.000-06:00

I've felt kind of rootless all week. I don't know what to do with my time when I have it, which is seldom. The newest thing is that I have less time because I am now the pro-bono babysitter of 'the lad' on sixteen quite often. Both Bento and I have been taking part in the psuedo-guardianship whenever it occurs though, and it has been enjoyable, but I'm definately not used to having to think of stuff to do with a little kid. And funding all that, on top of which. Although Bento splurged for ice cream the other day, which was tres cool.

Been writing. Been brooding. Been mulling over my life and starting pointless arguments that end badly with people I do actually care for--and weakly repairing them. I feel like I'm pulling into myself more in the last few days...which is short for increasing bad levels of not caring about much of fuck all right now. But I do care, that's the stupid part, I just have realized I'm not particularly adept at showing that I care about much of anything. Go me! Well, except for myself I suppose, probably too much, in fact.

Plus, the 'haunting fear' just won't leave me. No matter how much I insert myself with false bravado, I can't shake the knowlege that I will not find anyone for myself. And I know that I shouldn't care, and I try desperately not to care, but it just doesn't work, because I suppose there's always a niggling wondering of "if I stop caring completely, then it definately just won't happen ever." Which leaves me to incorrect and stupidly hopeful thinking about one particular ex, and tiny tugging feelings of bereftness. I just can't beat the whole idea of how distinctly weird of a person I am...how too weird I am to possibly find anyone that I could love, and be loved by in return. I promise to stop ranting about this. I just don't know how to stop it from making me sad.

My co-worker proudly announced that she was emo today. It was bizarre, because she described herself as "genuinely emo...the first wave of emo anyways, because there were three waves of emo, you know?" I'd just never thought of that before.

The Heartless Bastard and I went to a show tonight by a band called Omis (I think). I wasn't thoroughly impressed with the whole thing at first. In fact, the overall band, excluding the bass guitarist and lead guitarist, was pretty geriatric, and it frightened me to see them rocking out and jumping gentiley around the stage, because it wasn't like 'reckless sexy rock n' roll' because there was such a conscious effort to not over do it and sprain something or trip.

See: Hop, hop hop...tiny step, Hop hop hop, halted fist raising. Look at me, I'm so PUNK RAWKS.

However, the lead female vocalist had an incredible voice, which compelled me to buy a cd at the end of the show. Due to my connections to the photog though, I got a free one. Sweet. She was funny though, because she had all these gangsta hand moves she'd flash when she sang, despite all appearances to appear as a sultry slutty punk-glam star. It turns out she gives voice lessons on the southside somewhere. And now I can see why, she does have an amazing voice.

The update on my summer vacation is that my brother offered to buy my plane ticket if I refused to go to Tofino, and instead settled to spend a week with them whereupon after the week was up, he would drop me off at Chute Lake with the Sprite so I could vacation there for a week by myself. Compromise compromise compromise. I agreed, because really, despite my little pipe dream of camping on the seaside, this will do. I'm not going to complain about a free plane trip. I will crank the tunes in the little trailer, and camp beside the lake. My brother has also offered to teach me how to dirt bike, which I have to admit, I'm excited about. Reckless endangerment = go!

The last day of Geek Palace is looming. I will miss it I fear. The staff was good. Probably the most agreeable and likeable staff I've worked with in a long time. I also got a call from 2nd Cup for an interview, which is intriguing, although admittedly I am having a problem with the thought of giving up working at the deli. Oh my heart. I don't know. I'm going to at least go for the interview though, because no matter how my heart feels about the whole thing, the pros outweigh the cons if I got the job. Sellout that I am. It worries me that the meaningless job of barrista-girl would just add to the already large void of boredom and apathy that engulfs me. I'm so resisting the emo onomatopeia right now. I could just scream, honestly.

Use001

2006-08-10T01:20:00.000-06:00

I have to admit....nothing has been going on of note. I dislocated my knee again on Sunday, but really have just been doing nothing but the usual sort of thing past working and hanging out with virtually no one, which is a shame, because I do have more time lately to be doing so.

The little cat and I went to the vet's office yesterday, and discovered that she's gained one pound and three ounces in the two or three weeks since the last visit. Again, her vaccinations made her a little ill and anti-social, and I fretted, but was woken up at 6 a.m. by the Hanna Monster vying for attention and obviously back to normal.

My declaration of independence against all humans with penises still sticks, although admittedly there have been attempts at boys throwing sticks in my bike spokes to throw me off. But, I remain impervious, and oddly content with the lot that my cat will keep me company until my death, whereupon there will be someone around me to devour the body before I smell up the place. I jest, in all honesty, but I've really realized that I simply do not have the patience or the time for the "relationship" entanglements right now. And, I suspect I lack the maturity, but that is neither here nor there, and developing. On the other hand though, I don't anticipate I'll be taking any 10 year old vows of celibacy. I'm not about being celibate I've realized, and certainly not above being promiscuous, although cautiously so. Being slutty is awesome.

I've realized lately that I'm really still wobbily on being consistantly mature and confident. Although, despite the temporary and short term knee crippling, I've never felt as confident and capable of anything as I do now. I feel so much more aware of the bigger picture that I seem to have denied myself for the last year or so. Growth? I think so. Leaps and bounds of it. It seems like now is the point past heavy introspection upon last year where the evaluation culminates into the end product. I'm becoming a much better end product of me for now, I've realized, though this isn't a process that ever really stops occurring in life.

Well, now that the touchy-feely junk is over with...I still cannot think of the old le boy without going "oh my god was I a fucking idiot." It's funny, because the things I did that effectively ended the relationship were completely retarded, but I wouldn't have changed the "ended the relationship" part for anything. The more I think about it now, the more I realize it was a completely unsustainable thing, unless I were to...compromise myself into someone who was happy being 100% caring for the other person, and content with not being cared for in return.

One other revelation I've had recently is, holy fuck....I am an intellectual artistic person. I need intellectual artistic stimulation. I don't need it from other people, but I need to be able to do it and feel that it is important and vital to my character, because it's part of my character. It's who I am to make messes with words and paint.

Blah blah blah. Touchy feely stuff. Bento and I followed some Wiccans around tonight, and ended up following some Maori visitors in the end, as we mistook them for the Wiccans we'd originally started following. There is a hella awesome conference going on at the Crowne Plaza right now...something along the lines of International Healing of Aboriginal peoples. I've been meeting lots of interesting travellers in the convenience store as a result, as well as Geek Palace.

News with Geek Palace....I'm putting in my two weeks notice next Wednesday I think. It's done-- jumped the shark as they say in "the biz"-- and I think that booking off time for le vacation will just be a huge hassle if I don't just quit. I can't sustain two jobs while doing the practicum anyways, so it all works out. I will miss working there though, so the quitting-letter will be worded in such a way that maybe I'll be permitted to come back eventually. Although, even with all the uncertainty of the future at this point, it doesn't actually seem that likely that I'll go back there.

I have to start planning my vacation. I know I'm going to Tofino, but in all the reading that I've done, my interest has been piqued by a little place called Bamfield, accessible by logging road and right next to another section of Pacific Rim National park and Long Beach. There's a little campsite that has on-beach sites that I'm going to look into. After talking with a co-worker at GP today I also decided I'm going to get a library card before I go and stock up on books before i go, as you can take out books for three weeks apparently, which would be perfect. Books, beach, and solitude. I have a plug in iPod charger now, which is also double my fun. I'm also bringing my dad's old camera to McB's tomorrow to get it fixed (hopefully) before my trip, because the Canon is being wonky lately. It turns out that my grandfather penned in the instruction pamphlet that the battery "has to be replaced on March 1st, 1978." Yeah, I'm going to have to get on that. No wonder the lightmeter hasn't been fucking working, and I've fucked over like three rolls of film. Plus, I have a polarizer lens on the Nikon, so if I feel the urge to take tidal pool pictures (read: still obsessed with nature after all), I'll be able to do it without having stupid tourist picture water glare.

Predictably

2006-08-07T02:18:00.000-06:00

The week has been swell. I've finally come to the warm little epoch that I'm fine without being in another relationship ever again. I have been in this epoch before, and it was likewise pleasant, other than a few days of the month where really, a hug would suffice.

Also....I've been decidedly absent from the intar webs, and I have to say, much like a lot of other people, I'm enjoying it. Wintertime is the cabin-fever-love-thy-computer-quietly-and-shamefully time, not summertime. I realized today though, after an embarrassing episode at the drugstore, that I very seldomly have been getting into the actual sunlight. I think if I wake up early enough tomorrow, that I will go for a walk. Because the sunlight is startling to me lately on the walk to Staples. Pretty much six weeks and counting since I've had my last day off. Not to mention the rain, which also puts a damper on things. Damper. HA bitches, whut.

I have been to a few of the...how you say, "punk shows" in Edmonton lately. Surprisingly, I thought my punk-lovin' alter-ego had died, and all I had left after that was a cool belt, but no, I loves the punk show. New City has had a few oppurtune shows featuring multiple bands with cheap doors, so I went to one of those with questionable company. And the majority of it was very rad. I love watching moshpits. Freakin' hilarious.

I am Jack's broken mouthpiece

2006-07-30T23:44:00.000-06:00

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.....

FUCK.

Did I really say those things? Why will my mouth not listen to my head?

A conversation that should have been about ten minutes long, due to exhaustion from an 18 hour day, should not extend past that. Stupid things will be said, and important concepts will be fumbled, and basically, the feelings one will leave the conversation with will be awkward and embarrassed...and yet, one will be stupidly smiling at the promise of more conversations with that person anyways, no matter how they go. In fact, one might not even care where they go, just as long as they go. Destination = unimportant.

But fuck, I say stupid things sometimes. Enough that I walk around lamenting myself for about ten minutes afterwards anyways. I'm so awkward to talk to when I'm tired. Nothing clever this way comes. I need sleep.

Death to the air-crack

2006-07-29T00:53:00.000-06:00

The last week....oh my head. I've been really entrenched in rearranging the apartment, and doing some "spring" cleaning. I finally cleaned the big monsters out of the washroom, which was nice.

The little cat and I have been bonding, although it's been interesting because she's insanely full of energy at times and goes on mad homicidal tears. She's making up for her fear of feet with a vengeance, as she's now become quite adept at the suprise attack. But it's the "attack and cling/slash." Also, the table manners are not improving but getting steadily worse, as I was jarred into alertness on Wednesday morning when she scaled my body to take a peek into my corn pops. The good things though....she's amazingly cute, and still loves to cuddle when she's not getting into absolutely everything possible. Everytime I see her even if she's being the hugest shithead ever, I'm still like, "awww man...you're the greatest cat EVER..." Ad
nrtqw[1] nauseum, I know.

Otherwise...I've just been busy with either puttering around the house, working, or dealing with school. I found out two days prior to the final, about the final, but also realized that my summer session was thus compressed, and not ending on the 16th as I'd originally supposed. The final went ok, but the last week or two of classes were just really annoying. Where once my prof was really awesome, in the last two weeks or so, he became really obnoxious. I'm just glad it's over. I'm super glad he felt the need to warn us all for five minutes on the last class not to "Ever sleep with your students", because ...well, I'm stupid like that, as I'm sure the rest of the class was. Woo. Saved our asses on that one.

Work has been going well. I still get hopelessly annoyed at the tedium of Geek Palace, and have developed a huge aversion to the Copy and P center. It is the most annoying thing to do ever. I think if I worked in there solo, it would be ok, but otherwise, the girls drive me crazy. I like cash. I also got specifically named and praised in the city-wide online Geek Palace Survey ("You have been randomly selected to take the geek palace survey....it'll take five minutes, and you'll have a chance to win the shopping spree! It'll take five minutes, and is based on your service today.") for my mad customer service skillz. I got a new nametag promptly after that that no longer says "in training." So, I figure I'll die happy now.

The deli...what to say. I've decided that I should (well, got nudged with the idea that I will pursue, rather) start journalling after each shift, to better equip me in the writing of "le book." Because out of all the ideas I've had so far, this one...this one I still completely see as occurring. Now that my desk is in my room too, it will be a lot easier. I have a feeling I might hole up a while until school kicks in again and just commit myself to it for a while, while I still can.

In other news...there is no other news that I care to divulge on the air0crack of the interwebs. I'll probably just gush all over about it in meatspace.[3] S'all good.

GYHhhhhhh44444443hg 0p-gf-=vjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj [2]

[1] & [2] My cat also strives to be literate, and to blog her daily endeavours. She's complex.

[3] This term is so outdated, but I'm overtired, so fuck you. You know what I meant.

2006-07-19T00:10:00.000-06:00

So this might be old news to some...but good news from the Vet's office today. My cat is worm-free, FIV-free, mite-free, and perfectly healthy, although the jury is admittedly still out on whether she was feasting on the flesh of her brethern. She's been settling in quite nicely, and her stay is going to be elongated for another three weeks apparently, as she cannot be around other cats until she's cleared the vaccines she got today. And, this doesn't bother me a bit, because I've been enjoying her company immensely. She's insanely affectionate when she's not pre-occupied with exploring, playing or being afraid of people's feet. Today too, she proved how resilient she is, as she was incredibly cooperative and uncomplaining of the visit to the vet. She didn't cry at all, and she held still for the whole time. She ended up weighing in at an incredible 2 lbs and 4 ounces also, just in case you wanted to know. Even numbers = good luck, as far as I'm concerned. Normally kitten vaccines make them pretty sick for a day or so also, but she's already back to climbing the furniture at this point, and eating Fenton's spilled tuna off the floor. Maybe it tastes like kittens. Who knows?

I have been thinking more seriously about just keeping her here rather than turning her over to Kat. It seems feasible the more I think about it. I could fit her litter box under the cupboards in the bathroom and she'd still be able to get at it, even as an adult I think. I won't even be here long enough for her to grow that big though either. Plus....I know of at least four other people in the building who have had cats for a long time and have thusfar evaded Allan the super's "hallway allergic reactions to fur." However...it's something I will have to clear with the new roomie as well, with the stipulation that he wouldn't have to take care of her or share responsibilities past affection-giving.

In other news...the summer session has been going very well. It's only been two weeks, and I already feel a lot more confident about staying in the program, and a lot more comfortable that I am doing the right thing by becoming a teacher still. Fuck, my grammar sucks lately...I apologise. It helps too, that the more we do teaching analysis and such, that I realize my past mentor teacher was a complete headcase, moreso than I'd realized before.

All in all...I'm in an incredibly good headspace right now. I know I'm going to quit Geek Palace at the end of August, go on vacation, do good in practicum (like try fucking hard) and generally kick ass at this game of Life. And that in itself is uplifting. Plus, now I have a furry side-kick. How effing rad is that?

Interstellar Galactica

2006-07-14T00:00:00.000-06:00

Lately I've been wearing my hiking boots a lot, especially to work in the store. I've had them since the age of thirteen, and they thus are the longest lived foot-carapaces I've ever owned. Part of the reason I've been wearing them, is because they are so exactly molded to my feet that my feet thus do not slide around. They are hugged snugly, and my step is light, rather than plodding, like I feel the rest of my shoes do to my gait, with the exception of my converses. And admittedly, I've been wearing them because they remind me of home, and all the exploits I've had in them. It sounds strange, but I've been really fixated on my hiking boots for the last week, and everything they embody to me. I wrote a poem about my hiking boots, I've been talking about them with random people, and now I sit and wonder what the significance of them being in my mind so much is, because really, it's so material. But at the same time...what they represent is adventure, discovery, travel (I've always travelled in them...they've been everywhere man...) and squishing through muskeg. I love the smell of muskeg. So kill me. I have an old Heaney/Muldoon poetry section from my Irish lit class, and I've half a mind to just drive out to a patch of muskeg, walk around in my hiking boots, and read all his bog poems again. That would be fantastic. I wrote an essay on the irish bog poems once-- it was the first time any prof had ever told me that I could make a Masters project out of something I'd written.

Really though, I just need to get away from here. I've decided to take my vacation time in September, rather than the end of August, because Semene is leaving on vacation the same time I'd intended to. As well, Vanesser has been working a lot of extra hours lately, and hopes to have a vacation with her son sometime in the end of August too. Additionally, I was talking to my mom this morning (making peace, essentially) and she informed me that my sister-in-law was really counting on me coming in September and painting the mural for the baby's room. So...rather than two seperate complicated vacations, I'll just do it all in one go. I doubt I'll spend the whole time in Nevermatter Land though, that would drive me crazy. I have a feeling though, that I could borrow a vehicle from my brother and take a personal road trip to wherever from there though, if I wanted. I think I might drive to Washington and get to the beach for a bit. I was at Save-On today and stood by the lobster/crab/mollusc tanks for an unnaturally long time and just thought about the ocean and how much I loved the pacific beaches for being so much more colorful than Atlantic ones. [1]

Today, I thoroughly enjoyed being single. It was completely freeing to not constantly be thinking about another person, what another person thought of you, or all the muss and fuss. It was also nice to just "be."

In other news....J-dawg and I saved a kitten yesterday. She's a wretchedly small little thing (12 weeks at the very most), and is still too terrified to come out from under my dresser, though, mercifully, she has been eating when I'm away, and using the litterbox. It was like "baby's first steps" when I found out she actually used the box while I was at work. As for being under my dresser, at least I know where she is now. All of this morning, while getting ready to go to school, I was looking for her, and couldn't find her anywhere, which freaked me out [2]. And yeah....turns out she hadn't really gone anywhere. Anyways, the security guard found her in the stairwell [3] last night and punted her outside, and we coaxed her (hauled her) out from under a car. If anyone wants a kitten, please let me know, because I can absolutely not keep her. Of course, I'm tempted, because I love cats, but it's just not feasible. I could get kicked out of my building (sort of...although I could pull strings, it's not worth the risk), and I just can't afford it, timewise, or monetarily. But she's super cute, although she seems somewhat unused to human contact past "the bad kind." I was thinking of maybe finding temporary lodgings for her until I go to Nevermatter Land, and then bringing her with me in a repeat of "the incredible pet present suprise! (re: Elaugh), but I'd be too worried about her fate around the rotteweiler.

But anon...to bed, to bed.

[1] To a certain degree. The tidal pools are really what I'm talking about. I could spend hours exploring them, and on the Atlantic, only the really dramatic Fundy tides yield a lot of interest to me (i.e. guarantee that there will be something in the tidal pool to look at, though, more often than not, things are just swept away and you have to run after them and catch them. On the Pacific side of things though....it's easier to find anenomes for one, and crabs. And not just rock crabs, but hermit crabs. Ok, I'm not phrasing this well at all. Basically, you can find the same things in either place (though they differ obviously by virtue of water temperature/location etc.), but it's always been my experience that it takes a LOT longer to find everything you hope to see on the east coast, as opposed to the West, where you can find things all in one spot, and often more than you bargained for.

[2] "What if it dies and we don't find it before it starts to smell?" Perhaps this is going too far, but I'm sure you see where I'm coming from.

[3] This is the frequent, if not only, purpose of our stairwells--to dump kittens-- other than smoking pot in them.

Emerson

2006-07-12T01:51:00.000-06:00

Well...I had a good day today. I started out this morning by skipping my summer class and cleaning out Mr. Trapper's kitchen until five thirty. And it was silent blissful alone time for thinking. I may have killed my hands and my back, but it was definately worth it. And in the meantime...I really enjoyed Mr. T's company a lot. We talked intellectual and had tea twice ("forced breaks. I insist.") and he bought me a muffin. The kitchen itself was also not that bad of a job for the $70 I earned for it. And by not bad, I don't mean that it wasn't dirty-- it made up for the years old grime by just being interesting. He has a carpet bug infestation (he's in utter denial of it, like he has selective hearing about the word "infestation", and convinces himself constantly that they're just common drosphila), and so I sat there for most of the time pontificating on the cycles of insect infestations, and how they even start, and the reasons why. Well, in between sorting out to myself what all happened last night. I've really been going overboard on the livejournal aspects of things lately, I realized. Even moreso, I've been worrying about things that I can't really improve or alter past one day at a time. And...definately lost track of whose life I'm supposed to be living. At the same time....there is great comfort in the knowlege that even if it is impossible to ever vocalize how I'm truly feeling about something to another person, I can cry while listening to terribly sad music on repeat, then, laugh at myself for being a booger covered moron, go to sleep and discover all my common sense in the morning.

Keeping cool

2006-07-11T00:21:00.000-06:00

I realized today that it is too easy to pretend everything is "a-ok" on the internets, when you are a blogger. I've also realized that I've become pretty much incapable of telling anyone how I'm truly doing. So blog, you get the brunt of it, that is to say, that it isn't cool. Things have not been cool in me-land for a long time and it all just sort of came to a head tonight. Pretty stupid actually, that I would have a mental breakdown on the first day of the summer session that basically means, "yes, you are finishing this fucking awful degree, even if it kills you. In fact, you will continue to do everything you've been doing up until now, even if it kills you, because there is no other alternative."

"You are the wrong shape and size for this puzzle Will Robinson. Now you shall die."

I generally feel like doing nothing right now, but it doesn't stop me

2006-07-06T16:18:00.000-06:00

The last few days have been reminiscent of a ....[insert weird nature/hippy analogy here], and things are on the up and up. As most know by now, the boy and I have re-negotiated our relationship to that of friends, which is good, because he is one of my best friends and always will be. There is still some talk of me going to Alaska at the end of August, but I'm realizing that this is not financially viable, which is unfortunate. I do need a vacation though, definately, and not just one from my mind.

Otherwise...I work, I sleep, I eat, and really have not a lot to look forward to. I set up a scavenger hunt for my co-worker's son today in the building though, which was sort of fun, and involved me parting ways with a lot of my childhood "toys". By "toys" I mean collectible and highly detailed/crafted collection of insects, amphibians, reptiles, bats, and arachnids. I knew I'd have to get rid of them eventually, but I still sorted through them and kept the best ones for myself and future me-generations. The scavenger hunt didn't take very long, but the booty was vast, and I watched him pore over them the same way I did when I was his age.

I recently got trained in the Copy and Print center at Geek Palace- lots of things to learn, and ultimately more fun and challenging than customer service. And time passes more quickly. I've been finding myself doing a lot of stand in a la computer section as well, which is fun, because I actually get to share the knowlege of technology that I have accumulated and make "ronin ninja" sales. I keep sort of pestering to be allowed into computer sales, but they like having the men there, plus, they dangled the carrot of print and copy.

Shakespeare in the park last night was also a ton of fun. I realized I'd forgotten a lot of reasons why Hamlet was the most problematic Shakespeare play (alternatively, the most interesting) until last night. Memento mori! It was really nice to have the whole thing outside too.

Right now....it is muggy. And I am blah because it is muggy. The air is so vapourous that it is condensing on everything. And our ceiling is leaking in the hallway. That's fucking awesome.

Day 7 of utter self-destruction

2006-07-03T02:04:00.000-06:00

Ok. So I'm a walking wreck. I'm dehydrated and basically all the fluids have been replaced by toxins or other substances. What have we learned? The pain is not going the fuck away. So, tomorrow I clean up. And sleep. Merciful unaltered and unfreakish sleep.

"Man...I forget ...what came first, the bad idea or me fallin' for it..."

2006-06-26T14:48:00.000-06:00

The zenith of meltdown hit me yesterday. My parents anniversary party went really well, but I was too distracted to really have that good of a time, as I should have been. Get this: My parents have been married for 25 years. That's pretty incredible, and the gravity of that really hit me yesterday as I discovered the true nature of my own "relationship." Which is that it is discardable, and that I have been misled. I am a discardable person, and nothing I could possibly put into this relationship or have offered, is good enough.

I sit, I mull, I wait. I deserve better than this.

I wish I had an evil twin

2006-06-19T02:47:00.000-06:00

It is so hard to get alone time, still. If I were planning any illegal activities, I'd run into someone I knew in this building, and they'd want to turn it into a social event.

Hey, I'll go get my friends and some hot dogs. Sound good? Wait here, I'll be right back.

Seriously...I've been fine with people lately. I'm rather shocked at my returned enthusiasm still, because I was completely infested with small talk disease last week. I've never worked service before these jobs, not something that was this conversationally demanding (and yet completely brain-damaging)anyways. So now, I have to be peppy, energetic, sell sell sell! I hate that at the Geek Palace we have to push the store plans for electronics or furniture. Even paper shredders. Because I've at least figured out how to judge when you have a patient customer or an impatient druggy--now something that has happened at each store- same person too.

No dude. I'm not going to exchange a xerox drum that is six years old. You try this shit all the time at the other store. Remember me?

"Well...FUCK."

I've really established in the course of the week too who the people I want to continue to be friends with in the building are too. The rest I've just been more cursory towards. Those who like to show up at my door CONSTANTLY looking to borrow something- cursory. The angels that have offered to let me borrow their vacuum...friendly as hell.

Today, on a more random tangent, the super's best friend told me that he was going to make me a coffee table out of brushed welded steel. One can only squeal like a little girl when hearing stuff like this, so of course, that's what I did. He's such a nice guy. I may now be able to use my davy's locker as an entertainment stand now.

Even more random, Beatrix tried to commit suicide again today, but on a brighter note, she must not have landed on our already shady carpet on her back, because she got to run a marathon of silvery snail trail curliques before drying up enough that she just sealed herself into her shell. As always, the Heroic Fenton-boy intervened and saved her miserable mollusc life again before she bit the dust, literally. I'm tempted to let her down again so she can just eat all the shit off the floor and save us more grief with the vacuum cleaner.

In other news...my boss has just informed me that he's taking vacation time to go to the states at the same time I'm taking my vacation time to go to the states, so today he charged me with the responsibility of finding a two week temporary replacement. Now step up boys and girls, and vy for this very educational stint of "maiden/boy behind the counter"!* Let me know as soon as possible if you are interested in this thrilling adventure, and I will introduce you to my boss, and train you in the ways of the dull-steakknife self-defense arts of the store clerk.

I should go to bed. I have a large agenda tomorrow.

*Do not get stabbed, burned or any other unintentional injury, as all fees are quietly under the table and workers will not be supported under the Workers Compensation Act.

On desperation, Tim Hortons, and the Apocalypse

2006-06-16T00:07:00.000-06:00

So now things have changed again. I fired off an email very very VERY unenthusiastically [1] to Tim Horton's the other day, at the encouragement of a parent that went something along the lines of, "don't burn yourself out." The location I emailed to, got back to me in the wee hours of the morning today and very simply stated, "when can you start? Please phone us and let us know, because we'll take you, no questions asked." This was after the email from even wee-er hours of the morn that was like, "generally we would turn down a person with three other jobs...but if you don't fuck with us, we won't fuck with you- we'll make it work, in fact. It will be a delightful orgy of team spirit and cream filled pastries!"

Additionally, I performed the miraculous get-out-of-bed-and-open-the-store" trick this morning in fifteen minutes, as I'd slept through my alarm clock for forty-five.

"Man...you look tired. Hey, why are you opening? Isn't it usually the old guy?"

He's probably in Mexico and possibly inebriated right now, yes.

As for the cleaning gig...I picked up two tentative clients today. One whom is the best friend of the super and a friend of mine, and the other being the building's most notorious drunk. It should be ok (he's also PH- Mr. Mysterious U of A alumni, or
"the downtown trapper" as I've come to think of him)). I went for a preview of my first job tonight for Mr. N, and he paid me in advance (oh ye of tremendously immense faith, LOL) and showed me around. It's going to be a slice too, because he's a "pre-clean for the cleaner" kind of guy--mind you it's all surface cleaning.

A few bulletins:

Vasyl...you need to call me.
Bento- we need to get moving with the lease-signing...
Hydrass- you da shit. Keep on rockin'.
Fenton- Stop. I can hear you.

All: I miss you!

In summary, the theme of this summer is that everyone else seems to have an intelligent job but me. I'm doing grunt work again, but you know...I wouldn't have it any other way. I imagine if I was actually using my brain for four jobs, perhaps I would burn-out, but really, my feet just get tired. In fact, my brain is in Tahiti as we speak, lounging on white sands in a pickle jar and getting ready for September.

[1]VERY VERY VERY.

"Unfortunate slight..."

2006-06-13T23:27:00.000-06:00

I had a busy day today. We went to the copiers with our typo assignment and got that done this morning. The rest of the day until work, I got to relax a little, and then work. Tomorrow is officially the last day of school though, which is awesome (well, until the second one starts up in a bit).

In a different chain of non-chalant events, I landed a cleaning job for this friday. If my client likes the end product, it may be a bi-weekly thing that I clean his penthouse for him at $70 a pop. It's terrible though actually, because I can barely ever schedule in time to clean our place, lol, but I have to keep working.

Otherwise, nothing has really been going on. I'm too busy to be bored, but when I have a chance to stand still, I'm like, "fuck is this depressing. I'm bored, working my ass off, and still have no money."

I'm thinking about applying for other jobs and maybe dumping Staples. The other thing I was thinking, was maybe just advertising myself exclusively for cleaning in our building, because I have a feeling that if I was good (which I am when I put my mind to it), it'd be a good racket.[1] So many people in the building have no time to clean, or are too tired to do it when they do. Some are just old. Some are unhealthy.

[1]I am very well aware I will learn many things that I really didn't need to know more of-AND-importantly, if I were to do this, I will see incredibly disgusting things. I'll be sure to keep you informed of them all in a non-scary anonymous way if I do this.

Anyways...thoughts? Comments? Feasibility?

An Ode

2006-06-09T01:29:00.000-06:00

To the tune of Wonderwall, by Oasis, and contrived of five years ago:

"One day we're drivin' down the street
In the Old part of Montreal
Then we stop,
Billy gets out
His breakfast he lost it all....

I don't believe that anybody,
Spews the way you do,
Billy Sauce..."

Silly nilly

2006-06-08T01:28:00.000-06:00

1. Northwest Territories, Nunavit, or the Yukon?

I used to live in the NWT in Ft. Simpson, so I'm going to say that. Because it's a cool place.

2. Nintendo has a popular character called Mario, perhaps you've heard of him. Mario is a plumber. If you could "reinvent" Mario, what would his occupation be? Bonus question: what would his new uniform look like?

If I could reinvent Mario, he'd be a mechanical engineer. His new uniform would be fluorescant orange city worker coveralls, which doesn't make sense, but they're a very "ready for anything" sort of ensemble, which would be invaluable to the pursuit of golden coins.

3. Alaska, Alberta, or a new, neutral territory?

Hah...that wasn't a well deliberated question at all... Um. As of lately, I've actually been leaning towards Alaska, realizing how much of a country girl I am. And though it's a red state, I get the feeling it doesn't feel like, "YOU NOW LIVE IN AMERICA and are dumb," unless associating with republicans. And in Alaska, if you run into a republican, you can turn around and flee into the bush. Plus, I am realizing I'm really up to the adventure.

4. You have been given the opportunity to live in a wonderful studio apartment in Paris. You have all the wine you could ever want, and are fed the tastiest food in the world. You have all of this given to you for free, paid for by your patron who is basically paying you to paint all day long. The only catch is: you have are only allowed to paint reproductions of Anne Geddies photographs. Do you take the deal? I take that deal, shred it through the paper shredder, get an elephant to masticate it, poop it out, roll it into several cigerettes and give them to sixth graders. For money. No fucking way would I paint Anne Geddes.

5. You meet a talking frog who tells you that he is the reincaration of James Dean. What do you do? Ostensibly, I would find a bag that I could carry him around comfortably in, and introduce him to people as James Dean, and be a guest on Oprah. We'd talk about his sexual escapades of his past life, and the surprising encounters of his current green-skinned one, and then, James Dean would do an imitation of Kermit the Frog, and we'd all laugh, live studio audience- no kiddin'.

AWwwwwww.......

2006-06-06T23:10:00.000-06:00

There's my niece....she's growing like a little weed! She's already 12 lbs! I couldn't resist posting the picture, because me knowing my brother's facial expressions, you can tell he's grinning like a totally huge idiot in love with his daughter. She's gonna be a heartbreaker like her aunty, fo sho.

666

2006-06-06T16:11:00.000-06:00

So...on the day of the end of the world...what do you hope to be doing?

I hope to be feeling better, and I am feeling much better already. Take me now apocalypse, because everything is a-ok.

My super ended up talking about stalker boy with our beat cop, who upon hearing about it, said that it was not something to take lightly at all, and that he would be coming to my work today to talk to me about it, and give me his card. Complete confidentiality ensured.

Things with le boy and I are fantastic, and school also seems to be going along. I was feeling a little overwhelmed yesterday, but I think we're relatively on-track with where we're supposed to be with our project after today, so I feel a lot better about that. (Notice how I seem to talk about my feelings a lot? Tsk tsk.)

I still am very homesick though. I am going home on the 23rd for the weekend. It's funny, because the homesick thing has sort of snuck up on me. And then, wierd little events have happened around that--> My old best friend (whom, I really DON'T miss ever- which is a long story) called yesterday because she was in the city and wanted to hang out. Predictably, she just shrugged me off today though, as usual. But, it's one little thing, compounded with me running into the last bus driver I had in high school today on the LRT. It was funny, because he gave me this huge sort of awkwardly unreciprocated hug, and I got the feeling that he must be missing the old berg too...hugging every 'Laker' that he runs across perhaps. I'm not even that bad. But I do miss fresh air, and dirt and grass and gravel and seeing the stars at night, and hearing the lake birds in the morning. The third wierd little event, was that I ran into an old classmate of mine on Whyte last night-- no hugging--he's quite at home in Edmonton.

I was more social last night than I've been in a long time, and J-dawg and I went for a long walk and perusal of some buildings we'd heard tell of good graffitti on. Well, I'd heard tell. We were pretty dissappointed though, because apparently the "rad stencil" on the back of Mac's is no longer there. It only took shaking off two homeless guys and one cigerette to find that out in the middle of the night. Oh internet, why must you lie to me? In all seriousness...it probably just got painted over.

Oh mylanta...

2006-06-04T23:14:00.000-06:00

I am so incredibly numb right now- on the verge of not caring about anything. But yet there is something to be said about being on the verge, because I still do care, and that's what I can't get over, lol.

Stalker boy, followed me out of the elevator with more incredibly invasive questions onto my floor yesterday, and pretty much almost to my door.

Counteractions to stalker-boy are still in progress, because I'm still freaked out about it. I do however, after one day at work, have a harem of "pseudo-boyfriends". Basically, whomever I'm closest to out of the harem when I run into him again, will be the "chosen one." Maybe it will be touching and we'll kiss. Ha ha.

I'm starting to get seriously disturbed about it though, because I'm wondering if it's stupid to overreact if I am overreacting, or if it's even stupider to just shrug it off. I have had a few startling moments where I've had incredibly morbid thoughts like, "it's people like you that get murdered." But perhaps I think too highly of myself.

One other counteraction is that I am seriously going to go get a personal alarm. I will be like a heavily alarmed car, but hotter and more prone to going off from a gust of wind (yes, I'm that freaked out right now- and I despise that. I still am incredibly upset with myself for all this cowardice that seems to be showing up in my character, no matter how much I resolve to be not afraid of people especially).

In other news.... there is no news. Secrets maybe, but no news. I got to see the Cat lady today, by surprise, which was incredibly nice. And, Mr. Pazzo was alarmingly nice to me again, and provided us with drink on the mosquito-infested patio, even though he was closed. Mr. Pazzo is a mysterious enigma, but we have this odd respect/understanding of each other that I like. I will however be paying him back, because there are too many mooches that take advantage of him.

Evelyn showed up today also....she's out of the hospital, which is a relief, and she seems pretty peppy, although I can't help but think she's five times more nervous than she was before. If you ever hear people say, "it's my nerves dear...they're terrible" and scoff (because usually I scoff), Evelyn is the only person you will ever meet that will say that, and you won't scoff. Because she's incredibly anxious, all the time. I don't know how she gets that way at all....it's like her generation though, that hasn't been taught how to relax. No cult of lazy-shit-work-ethic generation there, I guess. That's just us.

Speaking of which...I finished reading JPod. MINDFUCKING. That's all I have to say about that.

Once upon a passed out rock star...

2006-06-01T22:55:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was weird. I've learned a harsh few lessons in life in the last few days. Firstly....I am not hardcore drinker girl, and I honestly can say that after last night, I am going to be a social drinker (a glass of wine or two) from here on out, and nothin' else. I'm tired of this cyclically getting trashed thing, and my body hates me for it when I do it.

Also, I've realized (again, via knocks) that it is a bit of a trap to start hanging out with the locals in the building in my offtime. I do really enjoy the company of a lot of people in our building, and like hanging out with them on occasion, but when it comes to drinking....they outclass me, and it's a whole other scary level of vice city that I don't want anything to do with, if that makes sense. I don't want to hang out with people that make a life long pursuit of this, because I sure as hell don't want to, or want others to think that of me. The other thing is...it is way too distracting from my own life to be constantly going over to "so and so's" for a coffee, a beer, whatever-- and it happens too much lately.

Last night, picture if you will, three of us impoverished louts of my building, being invited for free boozing and movies on a big screen tv in a VERY high end condo on 109th that only had one opening window and a quarter centimeter of dust over everything. But also picture me driving this guy (our host) home from our apartment's restaurant, because he was so incredibly drunk, with the two aqquaintances in the back, with a 200 lb rotteweiler in tow (a big sucky gentle rotteweiler named Benny). Next, picture our host- lonely, irresponsible, stupid and trusting, too much money, and desperate for a fuck. It was distinctly sketchy (basically one of many party pads of this guy). I was incredibly reluctant to go, but had I not gone, my female aquaintance would have been alone with two men, albeit one of them being extremely trustworthy and well...built.

Picture now, (as this starts looking like a bad movie) the host chasing around my friend all night copping a feel as everyone gets progressively drunker. I'm bored, extremely uncomfortable, have a cold, and the movie of choice was Super Troopers, so I end up playing with Benny and analyzing bad art deco that he spent way too much money on. But yet, I did drink, despite it all. I don't think though that it was so much how much, but what (Tequila, rum, and later, white wine) we were drinking.

In the end, I had a fucking lame time, and I did not sober up until about 1 pm today (read: 90% through my typography class). I really can't stand drinking anymore. I still love wine and always will, but I'm incredibly tired of overdoing it. So, I'm done. At the same time though, it is just me. I don't give a shit if other people do it, especially if they're having fun, and that'll never change...but it's really starting to gross me out when I do it.

In other different news....our magazine project in Typo, is this beautiful totally inspired thing that I came up with. The more we work on it, the more it falls together magically and awesomely. It's going to be amazing. Everytime I sit down to work on it, I think to myself that if I don't get this computer program, I very well might ...be unfulfilled. It's that fucking fun. And the magazine idea itself....it would need a lot of tweaking and modifications I would make if I were sans partner for the project...but it's pretty feasible for a small scale production idea. I really like the content. My partner for the project is really rad though too... We're very much on the same level of thinking, but she's an organizational nazi and much more practical than I am, so she keeps me in line too, lol. Plus, she's just fun to talk to.

Today, tour buses were parked in front of the Rose and Crown Pub....and lo and behold, I got to see Rob Zombie, from a distance. My super actually talked to the guy, but was like, "Oh, I don't know who Rob Zombie is--durrr..." I'm not a huge fan myself, either, but...le boy is, so...I might be in the bad books. He's already sort of choked at how many of his favorite bands come here. Of course, the feasible thing would be to thus move here and live with the girlthing...but...it's a tough sell, lol.

Fuck...I just finished talking to my parents, and man am I all of a sudden homesick. City life has been amazingly repulsive to me lately. I'm getting tired of seeing people treat people like shit, and people live like shit, and feeling so....harried and hectic.

Vignette

2006-05-29T13:08:00.000-06:00

"She's standing there at the checkstand
Just as she always does,
Taking people's money and bagging their goods
Always listening and watching
In one form or another
Fostering the disconnect of service vs. civility

A man comes up
Holding a limp USB cord for his printer
They always forget to tell them that
Ensuring a second trip to the store
Possibly more purchases of compulsion
Because a high-gloss finish
Super fast printing,
copying, scanning combination
is never enough

She rings him through
A simpler than most transaction
And he seems held aback,
Less talkative than most customers
She attributes it to the inconvenience of the second trip
But notices he watches her carefully.

In the careful sweep of the cord to the bag from the scanner
She feels fingers lightly brush her neck
As the purchase falls softly and plasticly into the thin polymer bag
The click of her prosthetic ear unclipping
Unanchored secrets and an assumption of obliviousness
To the part of others
As the silicon pink shell-thing falls onto the counter

The din of the PA and the busy store halts for a moment
Both service and customer stop and stare.

"Does that come with software?"

G.I. Jane

2006-05-25T11:29:00.000-06:00

So, I was wandering downtown today, and I decided to join the military. It was a hard drive for them at first, but eventually I succumbed, because really, the military needs more women. And the Canadian military has a pretty low participation number to begin with. The benefits are also good, and I will be able to see all sorts of new places, and meet lots of people.

I'm not sure how my parents will react, but I imagine my dad will be quite happy about it, even though I've dashed my hopes of ever getting to go to China.

Anyways...I joined, and they asked me where I wanted to go...which took a lot of deliberation, because I'm not sure- there are apparently so many cool areas I could be in. I debated officers training, but eventually settled on Transport. Those guys have the coolest jobs, and I'd get to drive sweet trucks.

So, yeah...That's what I did this morning- what did YOU do?

I'm totally just fucking with you. I would never join the military.

FontnoF

2006-05-23T22:43:00.000-06:00

I would love to say that life is boatloads exciting right now, but it sure isn't. I'm working on a broadsheet project in Typo though that is a tonne of fun right now. It is in fact so rad, that I think I may get two, so that I may frame one, and give one away to a mysterious party.

I've realized lately that I feel like I'm losing touch with myself. I can't think straight about anything serious, and pull off a great conversation that well, which was pitifully evident yesterday when hanging out with J-dawg. Nothing has been that inspiring to me though lately, albeit, I haven't exactly had time to stop and smell the roses on any occasion. But the typo course, it is fun. I've also been incredibly tired. I'm feeling really antisocial, and I can't seem to get away from people. Let's face it, they're everywhere. I can't even walk down Jasper anymore without running into someone I know.
This is an extension of yesterday's issue with men--I need some space, and I'm getting the total antithesis of it.

The man who wrote me a love poem came into the store today, and thankfully S was still there, so he wimped out and didn't say or ask me anything past "hi," because I was so tired, and I still don't really know what to say that's tactful and polite. Being tired pretty much throws diplomacy skills out the window for me.

The boy, is also a large contribution in being tired, unfortunately. I always feel bad though, because we do lots of writing together, and I keep crapping out on him because a) I'm tired, b) I have to be up at 7-ish the next morning, so I never have that much time to spend with him. But on the other side of things, he doesn't seem to understand the repercussions of the time difference (he's two hours behind). And, worse off...I don't know. It's such a faux pas to whine about this on here.

I've been thinking about enriching the font collection on my computer, but I think the fact that its a Windows platform is killing it for me. The more I use the Macs, the more I want one. Additionally, in the font collection department, those things cost mega bucks. If I wanted FF Blur for instance...it would cost a mere $119 dollars. It is a package deal on that site, but even for just FF Blur regular, that's about $65 at FontFont. Depressing. It is possible to get a shitload of fonts online for free, but usually they are a) cheap knockoffs, or b)really schizo to install (rarely run correctly...or have a tendency to bugger up).

I'm thinking before I leave school though, that I may visit the "intersession" folder one more time and burn that whole thing to disc, so in the event that I do get a Mac this summer (and the prayer is officially out there, no matter how irrational!), I'll have all sorts of lovely fonts to install that didn't cost a thing. Although, feasibly, it would be some happy return for the amount of money I've shelled out to just sit in front of a computer all day hurting my eyes as I attend to meticulous details.

The font I'm using the most on my broadsheet, just so you know, is Arial rounded MT. It's one of my favorites. Actually, I should go check and see if MS Word has it...though I doubt it.

Geek Palace has been improving for me, in that I'm a master of the returns and customer servicing, but becoming terrible as the monotony sets in from already an incredible lack of challenge. I keep wishing I could have been a computer associate instead. They have all the fun. I have noticed though that the amount of bitchy customers at Geek Palace as compared to the deli, is an astronomical 20:1 ratio.

Update on MS Word: No! Fuckers. There's like 20 fonts there, if that. And they're terrible. Why must we have three versions of Wingdings? Who the fuck uses them?

aaabbbcccdddeeefffggghhhiiijjjkkklllmmmnnnooopppqqqrrrsssttt
uuuvvvwwwxxxyyyzzz

Testosterone overload

2006-05-22T18:16:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, boys were flirting with me. Staring at me. I got a love letter from one of my customers, and visually raped by creepy stalker boy. THEN...vis a vie the "organization" I am part of a la internets, I got hounded for three hours more by boys who are not only horny males, but the biggest drama queens you will ever meet in your life.

It was unprecedented, and extremely EXTREMELY exasperating.

The guy who gave me the love letter (poem), was, unfortunately, the same guy that I had gone to the movies with under the misnomer that it was a benign friend's-hangin'-oot thing, and now I find that it is not. It was a sweet gesture, but if you read between the lines, it's thinly disguised and making me feel awful. I'm going to have to be in a position that I was completely not expecting. I hate drama!

Not all men are like this, though I'm warned repeatedly that they are.

I've really lucked out with most of my friends, and John though, because they are males, but this type of pig-stuff has never arisen with them. Go higher good, GO!

I'm having dinner with Jordana tonight. Maybe we'll talk about our periods or something equally feminine and exclusive.

Give homeless people scrubs. Problem solved.

2006-05-16T23:42:00.000-06:00

The update on the strange mix cd I found at work is that it contains the Everely Brothers, the Smiths (cool!), the Beta Band, Clinic, Depeche Mode, French Kicks, John Coltrane, the Magnetic Fields, and Overseer. Overall...so far, it is good. I've always sort of liked the Everely Brothers and the Smiths, so it has been nice. Free music. I will return the cd to the place I filched it from tomorrow.

Other things? Work. School. Work. School. I spend time at home to eat occasionally, and sleep. And now, to fight with my scanner.

As some may have read, we caroused out to Whyte on Sunday. Think about those two words, "sunday" and "whyte". Granted, there was an Oiler's win to be celebrated, but it was less interesting than I thought it would be. Wednesday maybe. Then again, I was grossed out by all the high-fives, so maybe I'll just stay home.

Also just found out that Alkaline Trio is playing at the Starlight on the 27th. ORgaSmic! If anyone wants to come with, let me know. You'll be responsible for getting your own ticket though...because I have no time to do that.

Fuck. My life is so boring. I was walking home (all 75 steps) from work tonight though, and one of the chefs at Pazzo Pazzo (translates to "crazy crazy" by the way, which is hilariously fitting) invited me onto the patio for a free beer and a shot of his own invention- the banana split. They're good. Score.

Things are going well in Type, but I had a critique today that didn't go so well. I mean, it was ok because she doesn't expect much of the 300's, but that's the problem. We could write "Fuck You Darling" in Garamond bold on a piece of tablet, and she'd be like, "oh....looking good! I see you're figuring out the program!"

An interesting fact I found out about Macintosh vs. Microsoft today. Macintosh actually paid the respective designers of typography money to use their fonts (hence the better selection and downloads usually being more macintosh friendly), whereas Microsoft just stole them all. Also: Neville Brody is one cool mofo.

bang bang

2006-05-13T00:56:00.000-06:00

Today was my first day at Geek Palace. It was pretty good, but I can foresee this as being a very boring job. And easy. Sinfully easy. One for the shaming was that I was trained by a kid in grade 10. But, I was impressed, and I learned lots, and I shocked my manager by how quickly I "picked it up." It was still a bit baffling for me though, because I haven't been used to being that laid back at work in a long time. There's always something I can do at the deli, because I am my own boss, and I make my own work, to say nothing of there always being too much stuff to do at the City (though my co-workers never seemed to see it that way). But yeah, I'm fairly certain that chimpanzees with red teeshirts, black pants and black socks, could do my job. If they needed to communicate with a customer, they could carry around the "Easy Button" and fire at will. In conclusion, it doesn't look like anything that I'm doing this summer is going to be particularly "tiring" past the frequency that I have to do it in, and the amount of monotony I will have to contend with. Although honestly, things are never too monotonous at the deli. I wish.

Just last week, a girl came running into the store, one that I recognised as a total psycho who NOW had a restraining order against her from a tenant (her ex) who lived in the building, because she stabbed him. She looked scared, and pleaded with me to open the back door into the building for her, and me, knowing this little detail of "you stabby nut girl," didn't, but one of the patrons inadvertently let her in eventually. Turns out that yeah, she was running from a guy, but it was the poor taxi driver outside who she'd ducked the fair of, who had, by the time I came out, phoned the cops. WHO, deemed it an inserious matter that this man's livelihood had taken a blow through illegal means, and turned down his request for the prevention of a crime over the phone.

The law enforcement in Edmonton has really been disturbing me lately. I am really interested in the changes that Mike Boyd is suggesting, but as of late, I've been seeing a lot of instances where the police are not really there to police "everybody," but rather, they police for the middle-upper class, and try and keep the lower class from killing each other, or they just pick up the body when one arises. Or they're just total assholes who neglect to care.

In anycase, I'm considering writing a letter to Mike Boyd detailing some observations of this, in much more neutral terms, because I'm realizing that part of the reason that none of this changes is because there isn't enough of a voice in law enforcement from the perspective of everyone.

The other thing that's been on my mind, is the capture/court appearance of Thomas George Svekla. I find it interesting/eery how embracing he is of the public eye, because it rings back to so many other examples of the cat and mouse games that past serial killers have had with police (Bundy), and also the manipulation of the media to suite the ego of the person in question. And he's just such a superstar already, after two days. Gacy, much like many have already said about Svekla, was also a very personable person, although Svekla's got a rap sheet for previous assaults already-- but still, people like(d) them, and had no reason to be suspicious of them. However, Svekla has a pretty high-risk lifestyle himself. Interestingly enough, there was another article in the Sun yesterday that was a poorly writ opinion article (ha ha, suprise...) about how it was actually Svekla that found Rachel Quinney's body. Now, I'm all for dissing the Sun as a shitty tabloid, so I'm not saying I necessarily believe everything in it, but at the same time, it's a pretty heavy issue to lie about. That said, why the hell do you tell a journalist that? That you were doing crack with another hooker who got scared of you and ran away, and as you were chasing her, you tripped over another hooker? Sure dude, happens to me ALL the time...

Art is going well. It turns out that the research quarry I have to make a broad board poster of, is a total design superstar: Neville Brody. Heavily affiliated with Apple computers and everything involving digital font. So, that should be fun. Only problem is, we had to give a brief presentation of what we'd gotten materialwise to start out with, and the guy next to me, who went before me, had the same guy, visited the same ONE site (I was strapped for time).

"Um. I have nothing to say- that guy just said it all. Do you want me to make something up?"

The only two people in class who chose the same dude, and we had to sit next to each other.

Ergonomically uncomfortable yet?

2006-05-11T13:16:00.000-06:00

Ergonomically uncomfortable yet?

So, yesterday and the day before....? I apologise. I have my head on straight now. But man, the thing that would consequently turn those days around for me, would be someone making me laugh. Like really laugh, and if that was you, thanks, I needed it.

The affection I hold for this class is sneaking up on me and catching me by surprise. The attention to detail needed is what is getting to me, but not in an anal retentive "design" fashion--more along the lines of you have to pay attention to details to be creative. I'm getting the hang of the software also, which is a huge help, as it now becomes secondary to the actual creative process.

Today...I found out an unexpected glorious thing about campus. I mean, it was one of those places I always knew was there, but never felt inclined to go see. But now....now things are different, and I thoroughly enjoyed the cool dungeon of the James Peel book collection. Most noteably, the William Morris books. SUPER most notably, the Alice in Wonderland book that he printed (he being the printer AND woodcut carver in question). I was completely agog with the woodcuts he made for the illustrations of the story. It was one of these things where you forget that it was "Alice in Wonderland" that you are reading, and pay $4000 to own a copy of it, for the exquisiteness of the printing, the binding, the typesetting, the fucking ILLUSTRIOUS illustrations...it was truly a thing of beauty, and I learned more about why I like the books I like. I suspect however, that this may be the harkening of a burgeoning addiction to book collecting. Also...when they were describing the printmaking process, I started hypothesizing on ways to do it on my own with different mediums, having always been too intimidated to try using wood blocks. The ideal thing would be a heavy sort of plastic that was soft, but dense enough that it wouldn't print sloppily, and could allow for extremely detailed cuts to be made.

AND...for some reason, I was looking at a typeset today (a collection of numbers or letters to be collated on a printing press, etc), and I had this weird feeling of deja vu that growing up we'd had a set, and I'd never realized it obviously, until it was too late. I will have to ask my mother.

Lastly....I feel like I'm still a little ways away from forming a chap book, but I saw an interesting binding/book fashion today that would be totally awesome to use for a chapbook. I'm not going to let it out of the bag until I try it though. It would also (I think) be a great art project for school. Even just the making and binding of a book would be, but it would be important to make sure they weren't just making a book, but that some of the emphasis would lie on the content of the book also, in whatever I might come up with. Ideally, I could see it accompanying a novel study even, but I'm at a loss at the moment as to what book that might be.

But who knows what we'll even be allowed to teach by the time I start teaching. Anything thought provoking seems to be out of style. . . The sad part is, that I'm only half joking. Kids need to be taught pragmatism yes, but they certainly don't benefit from being stifled to death by it either. I think this could be why I am always sort of seeing extremes now in how kids behave in schools...give a kid the ability to be an abstract thinker, but teach them responsibility--responsibility in that every action they do, will have a consequence (good or bad), and that they ultimately are the ones that have to be able to address that. As a teacher, you are a facilitator, not a dictator! Rant rant rant!

update: My orientation went swimmingly yesterday. I daresay that working at "Planet of the Geeks" might even be fun. I'm digging the staff humour so far, although there is a distinct aura of nauseating ass-kissery afoot it seems. Apparently "Planet of the Geeks" is THE hoppin' place to start a career?

There is a guy who glommed onto me during orientation though, who is interesting. When I say "glommed" I mean it. By the time I walked away from him after work, he had convinced himself (not me) that I would probably love to write the storyboard for a comic idea he has. One of "those" guys. After telling me that he thoroughly enjoyed emotional infidelity of course, and that him and his longterm girlfriend basically hated each other's guts "wink, wink-nudge, nudge." Ahh....I sense a red haired stormy black cloud of WRATH building up on the horizon...hmm. In anycase, he is a smoker too. More incentive to quit.

Music that will save us all. Fat girls dress better than me.

2006-05-10T10:42:00.000-06:00

I just found a mix cd in the FAB lab...I think I'm going to take it home for a perusal, seeing as my soul needs some saving. Oh wait, don't you need actual time to be morally depraved? I'd forgotten.

Surprising joys to me lately, have been several things, all focussed in and around the store. John has been phoning me at work lately, when he knows things are dead. Which, during the week, is often. And Sundays until about seven.

Yesterday was fairly miserable (and later I found, unneccessarily so), because I had a) problems with the Macs at school (it's all fine to have to learn how to use them because you want to, but when there's considerable stress involved in mastering the computer and a design program in a matter of a day or less, it makes me want to rip my hair out. Couple that with chronic server problems, and I was not in good shape yesterday when it came time to print out an assignment after surpassing all that crap somehow, and then being halted for not "setting up a printing account", which is to say, giving the prof two dollars as a printing fee.)

b)YES, this blog may turn into a venting page for a while. Deal with it.

c) I fucking hate shopping. HATE. I've adopted a new policy of just telling the salespeople to go fuck themselves (much more politely than that, most of the time), because I hate seeing that look in their faces when they come up to you that starts out as "Oh, I'm dying to be helpful" that fades into, "wow, you are not going to look good in anything in our store. Can I suggest an accessory?"

Funnily enough, I know I'm chubby, but I'm not hideously overweight either. No no...hideously overweight people can find clothes no problem now! I'm almost tempted to fill out another 100 pounds, because they make can-shaped clothing, and some of it is pretty cool. Anyways...chubby yes, so that all the clothes that are in my size, are made for people the same size who are ...not chubby, and not disproportionate. I was upset yesterday, because it took me three hours. THREE hours to find a pair of black workpants that may or may not fit even still, because I was so fed up that I just guessed and bought them. And I'm so fed up that this is how it is always going to go-- that 90% of the clothing I try on, does not fit correctly. I love clothes. I hate wearing hoodies all the time. But the fact is, a hoody is a total safe zone for me, because I don't have to worry about things sticking out as much. But holy fuck...some of those store clerks look at me like I have the worst taste in clothing in the world, and it slays me. I would dress better if I could. Maybe I should send this to Opera. Probably I will just go on a diet, because I don't have time to exercise.

On the upside...somebody likes me (HA): A person who I could not identify, phoned the store on Sunday afternoon and proceeded to wank off into the phone before I knew what was going on. What a special moment. I have my guesses as to who it might have been, but I suppose that's not just something you confront a customer with.

"Oh ____, by the way, thanks for Sunday's call. Was it special for you? Because I know it really touched my heart to hear your heavy breathing and moaning."

I see the world

2006-05-08T01:24:00.000-06:00

I'm honestly feeling a little bummed out right now [Insert Livejournal link here].

I'm bummed because I will actually miss my old curmudgeon of a roommate when he leaves. And I'm afraid that after he leaves, that this will be it. We will have had all this time together, where our friendship became tenuous, and then have no time at all after that to want to, or try, to repair it.

I'm bummed because I know I've dug myself into a hole of doing waaay too much for the next five weeks. But, I'm bummed that I'm bummed, because I know I have to do it, and the end result will be much better for me than not doing three jobs and two spring/summer sessions.

I'm bummed because I think I've been disillusioning myself as to how "thrilling and fun" this typography course will be...how relevent it "really" is, and that I'm shelling out $1037.00 to do it.

And then, I'm depressed about something, and I don't know what it is. I think it has to do with how I always seem to be waiting for something to happen. I do all this stuff (which never seems to be enough and makes me think I'm still lazy) to get me to that point of where I feel like "something's happening", and nothing does. I'm so impatient to get to the point of where I can just toss pragmatism aside and start doing what I want to do, and stop being a whiny bitch about never having the time to do that.

I just want to paint. And write. Those were my original goals of this summer--much simpler than last summer, but I had those goals, and now, I don't foresee them happening. I wonder how long this current painting sits on the easel until I get to do something with it at a time when it isn't enormously impractical to be working on it.

And yet after all this superficial complaining, there is still this completely intangible aspect of being depressed that I can't put my finger on that worries me. Because really, I know that all this stuff is just petty, and it will work out in the end, but something about life is saddening me, and it's not just a Johnny Cash cover of "Desperado."

random acts of computer sabotage

2006-05-06T01:47:00.000-06:00

Apparently I'm missing "the point", but I think this is hilarious. It would make a good t-shirt, if anything. Marauding teenagers make me laugh.

The next in line will be someone who loves you

2006-05-05T02:12:00.000-06:00

So, life has been interesting. I have a masterful amount of things coming up it seems. Everything is just below the line of overwhelming it seems, already. I keep thinking though that it's the anticipation of the madness that's killing me more than the actual madness of holding down two (three, officially) jobs and doing a spring session that is a full year course compressed into five weeks.

I may die in the process, but at least I'll have been making the most of my time alive for once. I started a painting today. Interestingly enough, I unwittingly have some fractal-like things appearing in it, albeit accidental. In painting the canvas (when I pretentiously use the word "canvas" I really mean a big piece of particle board with primer on it) completely black. Originally, I was going to paint over the "fractal" experiment, but Adam's better half convinced me otherwise. I'm glad I listened, because the more I look at it, the more I like it. The lines are agreeable.

I don't know what else to say about things as of late, though I've arrived at an unusual peace with Dom. I've realized that he's so defeated and burnt up as a person, that rather than being one more person that hates his guts, that maybe I should be nice to him. He needs nice.

I find out about the research job tomorrow. Part of me is thinking it would be highly unfeasible (sp?) that I get it, but it would be really great to get it, despite the extra commute. It would be a challenge, though, I do question if one more challenge is what I need right now, in all honesty.

The iPod by the way, has been groovy fun. It's a blast. Only 60 megs to go...and I may succeed in filling it.

The sound of a Telus deal that didn't get delayed

2006-04-27T16:36:00.000-06:00

Ohhhh ipod, you came and you conquered my country
And you sold my body to slavery
Oh ipod,
You're white
And you store lots of music
And you're the embodiment of everything awesome...

I get my new ipod on Sunday. I should feel mildly disgusted at the very least that I will become one of the "pod people", yet I'm harkening the new earphones, and much more storage space with childish glee.

Conversation with aunt:

"Oh, your pod thingy came today in the mail. I forgot to bring it [BUH??]. How about I wake you up too early on Sunday to go rollerblading, and I'll bring it then."

If that's how you want to play this game of manipulation...then fine. So be it. Eat my ball-bearinged dust lady, because I'll be there.

In all honesty, I haven't seen her for a while. The ipod isn't that big of a factor to go hang out with her. I'd actually given up on the prospect of the ipod weeks ago, and just surrendered to a feeling summed up in, "Zounds, you evil Zlorg, you've thwarted me yet again! But, nonetheless, I will continue to live, because that's what heroes do." She's been kind of down lately, and I figure that getting her oot and aboot with some exercise will get her back on the upswing to happytown again.
If anyone else wants to come, we'll be meeting at my place at 11:00 am on Sunday. Bring yer blades, and a hint of awesomeness undeserving of the early morn that is only rendered in a hangover. Because hangovers and rollerblading are fun.

The streets hath no mercy

2006-04-25T22:59:00.000-06:00

I found out today that my friend Dan (Crazy Dan, as I affectionately have called him in the past) passed away 5 days ago. They found him dead in an alley with his lungs full to capacity with liquid, because apparently the pneumonia didn't go away. It's not all that surprising though, as the illness itself takes a lot out of a regular person who has a regular place to go home to to recuperate, who has regular meals and care, much less someone who had none of the above at all.

The gentleman who told me had known him for years, and knew that Dan was quite fond of me, so he went out of his way to come and tell me today in the store. We reminisced how he was very misunderstood sometimes in the time that he was alive, but out of a lot of people we knew, he had a good heart. And he really did. It didn't matter how bad his luck was, and it was truly awful sometimes, he always had a smile, a joke or a story to tell. So, I'll miss him, but I knew he was suffering. And it sounds funny coming from me, but I really do hope he is in a better place, because he deserves it.

So Dan McMillan, here's to you. I know it's lengthy, but I wrote it a long time ago.

Crazy Dan

I told you
He says
It was crazy…

And it is crazy
This man talking so vastly
So sci-fi at me
In that bleeding together tongue
That only a never really recovered
Post-traumatic stress disorder
Borderline schizophrenia
Trucker of the skyway
Retired mechanic or postal serviceman
Nitroglycerine veined
Cyborg weapon implanted
Wild West Hero
Assassin master “James Bond style”
Emotionally scarred
Abandoned by family and society
Ex-needle junkie
“Who never hurt no one”

Who might have been someone’s grandfather
Who feeds pigeons and magpies
Rolling down the snow-covered roof
To his windowsill
Fat on his mercy
In a mild but unforthcoming winter

Every Friday night I listen
To the colorful living memoirs
To stories of a man hiding scared
In a fantastical realm

Who, like most
Is afraid of dying alone
Silently denying that his body
Thin and jutting
Is crapping out on him
Sure as an automatic Ford is wont to do
Cannot keep on
From decaying in a room at the Y
Strewn with the aluminum stars of his lonely galaxy
Crafted with the slyly emergent creativity
Briefly overshadowing a fumbling manner
Apparent to all but those who listen

Really listen.
Listen to this man whose joy is his imagination
And helping others appreciate the finer things in life

Dan, to be quite blunt
You’re incapable of getting straight to the point
But really
I never know what to tell you either.
I lack in everything but ordinary
And as I raptly listen
Your surreal reality
Becomes true as my mind’s eye sees it unfolding.
Now, I almost wonder if that is what you have in mind
As you pepper me with fiction
Mumbling halfway
Creating segues in the streamlined fashion
Admirable of a mad man

But it is the alacrity
The clarity of the minutiae
This perpetually startles me
Your inward knowledge of Cadillac engines
Greyhound routes
Tractor-trailer hydraulics
Newspaper production
And the names of all the people you’ve ever met
Who have no doubt also been held captive by your stories
As I am now

How Thompson-esque you can be
Though you surpass his brand of revelation constantly
When you start out talking train jumping
End up talking shit about four hits
Of mescaline
Of waking up under a blue Thunderbird
A “broad to the left under the dang ‘ol wheel”
Not knowing where the hell you were
But that it looks like
You had a fun time getting there.

Every time the girl got to know Dan
He discombobulated her every chance he got
As she narrowed down his affliction
Maybe his list of afflictions
He spewed random profundities
In return for her concern
Violating her view with shocking wisdom
With flickering fluorescence of bleak truths

I am always watching your face change
As you listen to me
Mopping the floor as I lift my feet up
Like a small boy waiting for his mother
To finish the grocery shopping
To buy me an ice cream
Like she used to
Your face now, as I have been watching you
Reacts in different ways.
I always know when you are pre-occupied
Or hungry.

“That Chinaman told me yesterday
That you’d been starving for three days
Don’t worry, I brought you a muffin
And fifty dollars that should get you through
Until I get the two million dollars that director owes me
When I was in all those movies with Humphrey Bogart
Man, that guy parties hard—broads all over the place
All shapes and sizes
I remember when him and I, and some of these broads
Real pretty ones
Were drinking and making plans for the shooting of the “Titanic”
These two tough guys came in and stole my cigarettes
Took my whiskey too
And Johnny Cash stood up and just plugged them both
Right in the pie-hole!”

He would laugh
As would I by sheer infection
Hidden amazement

He told me he was there when the Titanic sank
How he was in the water as the ship went down
And how he died by not drowning
But freezing to death
But as always
Reincarnation prevailed
Dan being somewhat of a body snatching
Womanizing, life-wrestling
Connoisseur
Of all things combined
That government sponsored commercials
Tell you not to do.

“The buttons were just beepin’ away
An’ all these sirens were going off
And this…oh, robot or ‘summat said
‘That’s not a good idea Dan…
You seen that movie?
Yeah, I was in it,
They put me in all that space crap
And booted me out the door
So the main actor wouldn’t get hurt
By all that junk floating around out there
You know, in space.

They owe me money for that one too
But buddy is in jail,
Edmonton Remand.
I know he’s good for the fifty grand though,
And my AISH should keep me goin’ until he gets out
If I can pay off that bloody overdraft on my bank account…”

When he sees her grin at him over her broom
It makes him smile and forget where he is for a moment
The same way he grins when the starlings peck at his window
Waiting for him to rouse
So they can have his leftover Puritan stew

He smiles the same way he was smiling
When she drove past the CN yard the other day
Seeing him basking in the sun on a lone bench
Telling it was him from the way the sun shone
Through his ears
Shaped like small satellite dishes
Insulated with that particular old man
Ear hair her grandfather had
Up until he passed away from COPD
--Something she suspects Dan will also have
Due to a repertoire of chain-smoked
Unfiltered rollies in perpetual motion
From once hard-working hands
To a miles-wracked odometer mouth
As he sits on that warm bench,
Green parka sleeves rolled up to steadily fragile-becoming wrists
Looking as he should
This god of poetry
Would have made Pound gasp
Speaking in tongues reserved for maniacs
Or a fledgling poet
This god of bursting en scene
Like he owned the place
Making a scene and breaking it
Always leaving laughter
Mirthful or malevolent in his wake
With the finesse and grace
Selective only to the impervious.

“I said what I told you just now
Because I don’t understand you
You’re too…too concerned with the negativity
Of your customers
Because I’m always here watching,
Watching your back you know,
And I see…
See how you are with the bad ones.
So, I’m telling you this
Told you that,
For your own good…
I don’t want to see you snap
And kill one of those crazy fuckers
You’re just too guided by the man
Behind the eight-ball, you know?
Don’t let them get you so damn angry
It makes me nervous to see you like that.”

I should crow now
That I make Dan nervous
Like the security guard and the super were
When they saw him here
Hour after hour
Coffee after coffee
Smoke after smoke
But I feel intense guilt as I look up
Look at him looking at me expectantly

As I read through the lines of three months
Of non-stop stream of conscious stories
Your fiction code was broken then
If only for one pleading second,
And you began to tell me about the birds.

B to the O-R-I-N-G.

2006-04-25T01:33:00.000-06:00

Right now I feel like gouging my eyes out on a piece of 3d conceptual art. Any guesses on why? Oh yeah...because I stalled with the studying again, and now have roughly 12 hours or less to my disposal to study for the final that our professor is essentially trying to cull the numbers of badly smelling art students with. I, as an ed. student, will just be a hapless bystander hit by a stray bullet of Jackson Pollock caliber.

There are so many things I'd rather be doing right now. I've decided that while I've only really been pretending to have money, that I'm going to buy me some new acrylic paints on Wednesday or Thursday. I have until May 8th to go on "le BONANZA CREATIVE" I figure, so I'll make my vacation productive and paint the time away, because I've had all sorts of crazy ideas as of late. Oh, and guess what else...I'll read stuff. For fun. It's going to be amazing.

Still no word from Staples on the status of me getting hired. I figure I'll phone them tomorrow and beg tearfully for a job perhaps. Even better, I could go beg in person, but that might be more degrading. I need work![1]

It's also come to my attention today that I need to go get my mumps vaccination "tested" apparently. My mom, being ever the alarmist on everything biologically hazardous, informed me that this would be a good idea, or I "might die." More honestly, if I got it, I could lose my hearing, which, is important enough that I will disobey my usual skepticism in regards to my mother's paranoia, and go get checked. I will get laughed out of there, as I usually am by listening to her, but, it's worth a shot this time, probably.

Interesting highlight of tonights parental conversation via their speakerphone in their kitchen and I at home:

Mom: "So yeah, if you get the Mumps, it would be awful....Oh yeah, did you make an appointment with the gynecologist yet?? What about the dental guy?"

(silence)

Me: "MOM...Jesus..."

(muffled laughter from Father figure)

Mom: "Well, I think it's important. You never know what's going on in there."

In other news...I found out that Remedy was hiring, and that I missed the boat on that one. Le suck. That would have been a great place to work.

[1]As seen in the journal today: a homeless man holding a placard that said, "Brad and Angelina are having a baby, and I can't afford the gift." OH HO HO HA HA HA...

Three t-rexes. THREE. That's 6 joggers a day, at least.

2006-04-23T01:47:00.000-06:00

You know... I just finished watching King Kong (Peter Jackson), and I don't care what anyone says...I cried like a baby who cries like a baby that just got slapped. It isn't the "best movie of all time", but it was way better than I thought it would be.

Today has been a long day, frought with boring, oddness and tiny melodramas. I won't elaborate too much, but I will ask my readers...am I an embarassing person to be around? Do I embarass any of you on a regular basis? And if so, how?

Yeah...just trying to use a blog to solve my life's problems in roundabout lame-fashion.

On blown up limbs and missing eyes

2006-04-22T12:42:00.000-06:00

People in the street
Ducked for cover
They thought gunshots
From fireworks
Fired from the 26th floor
Fuses lit in shaking hands
At 12:40 in the afternoon
Red and green flares
Falling and reflecting
Between sky scrapers
And no expectation
Of the inordinary.

I will probably never see that again.

This actually did just happen. I don't know what they were thinking...But it was interesting.

Just shoot it in the heart

2006-04-21T12:36:00.000-06:00

This morning, though extremely early, started out really well. As long as there is no talking, mornings usually go ok when they start at 7:00.

Enter the impossible final exam from Hell. I actually studied, and everything actually just ended up falling out of my head. Thus, my exam writing turns into a scenerio of following gut feelings and re-making my own theories of grammar and syntactical applications.

After my exam, I was mollified back into simplicity by saving a yellow-bellied oarsman beetle and throwing it into the Zen pond by SUB. I ended up giving some guy a cigerette in exchange for not stepping on him outside MEC though. Why do engineers have to be such sadistic bastards anyways?

Interesting: I went to Second Cup on the way home, and got a coffee, and the guy that works there....not only gave me a huge deal on a slice of the humongous chocolate cake (yea, I'm feeling pretty sick right now, but it was worth it), but started talking to me afterwards as he wrapped the remnants....and I daresay, he might have been flirting, just a little. It was wierd.

And then, just to cap the weirdness factor off for my day: There is a dude in our building that I always see around, since we moved in, who has always given me an extremely bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. He rarely comes down to the store, and I keep thinking he can't really be bad, and maybe I'm just overreacting, but today, the feeling got worse. If we're in an elevator together alone, I can't wait to get out. Today, he stopped to talk while I was having a cigerette, and basically got way too close to me, and started right in on me with the following conversation:

Him: "How are you doing?"

Me: Good, good...can't complain

Him: So, what are you doing right now?

Me: Oh, well, I'm really tired, so I'm probably going to go have a nap.

Him: Why are you tired? Are you busy right now?

Me: Oh, I had a final this morning...really early

Him: Where is your boyfriend right now?

Me: Uh...not around.

Him: So, are you busy right now? Where's your boyfriend?

Me: Yeah, I'm going to go have a nap, I think.

Him: Why isn't your boyfriend around?

Me: He's just not. He's busy right now.

Him: Do you want to do something with me right now?

Me: No, dude, I'm sort of banking on that nap. What would you want to do anyways that you can't just do on your own. I mean, surely there are lots of things you can do around here for fun?

(I'm getting pissed off at this point, and weirded out)

Him: Well, just something. I have the week off.

Me: Well, there's the art gallery. Hey, you could go see a movie or something.

Him: I want to do something with you, if you'd want it

Me: Like what, a walk or something? I really don't ...I'm really tired man.

Him: Just a walk? Nothing else?

Me: No, maybe a walk some other time. But nothing else. I'm not single, so I don't do the whole 'dating' thing, ok? I'm going to head inside, I think. See you.

Him: I hope I do see you soon. *creepy smile*

OH....I could just shoot men in the heart for these types of conversations. It was very uncomfortable, and I get the impression he's not going to stop hounding me. I'm thinking of just telling him to screw off next time I see him. I am tired of not being able to say no. I keep wondering too, what kind of impression all of a sudden that he's been getting from me...I mean, do I look like the kind of girl who just puts out on the spot? I know the bedroom eyes when I see them, and his are most definately not welcome and way too obvious. If it just seemed harmless though, I don't think I'd have a problem just being all like, "nice try, maybe someone else?" I just hope he doesn't come and bug me in the store. If anything else happens (by all means, tell me if I'm overreacting by the way), I'm going to have to talk to Jim about it maybe, and see if he can do something. The dude knows what floor I live on. I however, know what floor he lives on. So maybe I can two-by-four his door shut or something, and maybe he'll starve or find nirvana in the masturbatory pleasures of the hand. Even compared to the whole episode of Dom and the drunkenness...this guy gives me a way worse feeling than that, and that was even before Dominic.

Consternation!

2006-04-17T12:41:00.000-06:00

Man... it's good to be home. I have a final due tomorrow, as well as a job interview and another final on Friday, and oh yeah...I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my relationship (but that I still have managed to try and fuck it up quite nicely).

It's a good note to start all my days on, surely.

BC was really nice, and though I was flip-flopping on it earlier, I think I will go back at the end of the month for a week or so. Hopefully Joel can come with, because I always find that it's so mindless and peaceful there that it's extremely easy to get lonely and bored. Not to mention completely isolated intellectually, unless you enjoy talking about fruit, how to grow fruit, who grows fruit better, or construction.

The baby is no ordinary baby either. She's super baby. Already, she's doing things at two weeks that I'm positive are premature to her age. She's incredibly alert, and she tracks things, and she's incredibly active and smiley, and really good already at holding up her head. And gorgeous, of course. And her pooping-face, makes me laugh my ass off everytime I see it. When I have kids, I hope they're as good as her when they're babies. She rarely cries, and she loves to cuddle. Awesome.

Back and Forth

2006-04-09T00:04:00.000-06:00

I have one week to think of things to say to my dad for 15 hours of travelling to BC. Ok, not even...only until Thursday. I always have to do this....have some idea of comfortable things to discuss with him. Spontaneous conversation with my father is few and far between sometimes.

This week, has been a tumultuous one for me. I got two new shifts at work, while I've been trying to scheme desperately on how/where to get a second job. If I get a second job, I'll be busier then hell all the time during the summer. If I don't get it....I'm not going to have that much money to do much of anything with, past, you know, living. Also tumultuous is funny sixth grade drama, and pulling a fast one on my linguistics prof as far as handing in extremely cheated-on assignments worth 5%.

My first final is next week, and it's a take-home.

See how awkwardly I've worded all this blog? This was the dialog sort of in the movie we watched tonight. Stilted and obvious, and somewhat eerily done like the world REALLY was full of people having amazingly verbal epiphanies and realizations and funky things to do with objects all the time.

Seriously, the movie was incredible. I'm going to give a little background to the concept of the movie (relational aesthetics) when I get the chance, but right now is not the time, because everything hurts.

Insane on the membrane that is giving up

2006-04-03T16:18:00.000-06:00

I bought Summer Elke a teeshirt today. She should be able to wear it by the time she's a year old. I just couldn't resist it. Babies make you into a compulsive shopper! Visa! No no!

No, my life is not usually so mindless, I just don't feel like recapitulating on things that are obvious to all anyways, constantly, just because it happens over and over and over again and causes me rage issues.

Note: The gorilla (baby) on the silkscreening doesn't really have demonic eyes in real-time. It's just poor pixellation.

Nitro-glycerine attack!

2006-04-02T00:14:00.000-07:00

So, I realize I've been giving this whole house-sitting gig a lot of knocks, and complaining a lot, but really, it's not so bad. I've actually been enjoying the solitude, and the furry dog that curls up in my lap whenever I sit down. He's been like a permanent shadow since Godzilla left. If I have to go to the bathroom, he sits outside the door and whines until I get out.

In other news, he fell in the toilet bowl (clean) the other day. Coming from a house that very rarely has any seat or lid down, I of course left the lid up, and he's not used to that. End result of "I would freakin' love to watch you brush your teeth from on top of the toilet seat" was not good. [1]

Work was really idyllic today, much more than usual, because of how warm it was. There's a funny nice feeling you get when you can keep the door open and bask in the sunshine while talking to the regulars who gather in front of the store or sit inside. And everyone was in a good mood today because of it, which makes a hell of a difference sometimes, especially on Saturday nights or Friday nights (everyone was in a good mood yesterday too -pay cheques and warm weather- it's really that simple sometimes). Even the crackheads were in a good mood.

I hadn't realized it until this week (on the subject of crack users) for some stupid reason, just how common crack use is downtown. And yet, it was an innocuous thing that tipped me off, though I've had many many other blatant examples presented to me in the past. Every week, my boss buys one "platform" of Bic lighters. You figure 5 rows wide and 20 lighters deep, and that's a lot of fucking lighters. Now, the beauty part about crack is that no one lighter will do if you're truly an addict. Bic, (as someone confided in me) is THE lighter of crack users, because of the "age of the flame" (how long it will stay lit, as well as how long the actual flame is). Anyways...we'll go through 100 lighters to the same 40 people in roughly a week. You might be thinking, "Well, what if they just lost them? I lose my lighter all the time..." More often then not, they throw the same empty lighter they bought the day before in the garbage when they pick up a new one. So yeah, I know I make light of this, and it's not really funny, but, it's so hopeless that all you can do is laugh, and make them laugh when they come in. I was saddened to realize today though, that a guy that I've grown rather attached to lately (he's nice to talk to)is a user. It doesn't change the fact of me enjoying his company, but ...it's hard to watch. And all you can really do when you are a counter girl, is watch. Constantly.

Today I may have done something potentially silly. There is this guy (a regular)(about the age of my dad, maybe a little younger) who has been bugging me to go to the movies with him since November. I've been telling him "no I have a boyfriend" until about December, and he was unphased. I don't think he really wants a date, I have since realized, so much as someone to hang around with. He works, sleeps, and eats, and hangs out by himself most of the time. So, understandably he's lonely, and he's somewhat (albeit humourously) miserly, because he makes major coin at his work and chooses to live at the Y. So today, I agreed to go to the movies with him. He really is a nice guy. He's very quiet and sweet, but you can tell he loves to talk and never gets the opportunity for someone to listen to him. So, yeah. I think it will be fine, hopefully. Plus he's short, so if anything/hand runs afoul, I could totally take him.

[1] That is one large robotic prehistoric beaver!

Awww...babies!

2006-03-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

I am delighted to share that I'm an Aunt now, to a little 6 lb and 8 ounce baby girl named Summer. I guess everything went ok, which is great. My dad was the only one that accurately predicted anything (he guessed the day she would be born). I lose my five bucks, but WHO FREAKIN' CARES?? It's so exciting! I am once again taking my little mini-break for the first week of May to BC, although it will be much different this time I imagine, with little to no debauchery, and just helping out as much as I can. Which is great.

This is nuts. I've just constantly been thinking, "I wonder what this little person will be like? Will it be like my brother, will it be like his wife? Who will she take after? My brother is a dad?!"

Update: I have one picture downloaded to Flickr of le baby pants, if anyone wants to see (who hasn't been inundated with emails from me full of baby pictures yet).

Well fine...fuck you.

2006-03-27T23:45:00.000-07:00

Have you ever house sat for someone before? It's like you adopt their life(style) for a week. And, this is refreshing at some point because it's a little change from the ordinary, but then it becomes old, fast. And the second day isn't even over yet.
In fact, I would say that so far, it's downright embarrassing. Before my aunt left, she gave me about $300 worth of lecture time on how to have the most unhealthy and codependent relationship with your canine EVER. Dogs don't need their teeth brushed. I don't need to go on an 11:30 pm car ride, so you can show me where the closest animal hospital is. Importantly, your animal's heart is not liable to explode if you do not adhere strictly move by move to the morning and evening routine that you are borderline OCD about anyways, prior dog.

Along with this little lap dog toting person I am temporarily becoming, I am also the driver of Moby Dick, the Ford Explorer. Embarrassing. Even more embarrassing, is the only cd you remember to bring to jam into the stereo at the airport as soon as she is in revolving doors, is Matthew Good. Yeah, I could have listened to the radio, but man am I tired of Sonic lately. And I don't really like many other stations. Plus, you know....cruising...I wanted cruising music.

And last on my list of highly unreasonable and ungrateful whining-ishing, is that I am afraid to eat anything here. I don't know how she eats this stuff and doesn't fluff up into a ball of fat. Stuffed foods with french names, and no cheese in sight that isn't 95% "Going-to-kill-you-sensuously."

In short...I've long loathed my aunt's lifestyle, she's very much ruled by a higher standard of living, and it just gets higher. It makes me nervous to be around it, because I'm afraid I might like it, but at the same time, it's embarrassing. Do you know how embarrassing it is to walk with a dog like this downtown? Do you? I love him dearly, but man....He needs some mean ass jowls and a bit more mass than a meagre six pounds.

Admittedly, I feel bad for the poor dude...he's all tired and fuzzy and sleeping in my lap, and more than a little depressed that Godzilla is not here.

Stolen goods

2006-03-24T16:54:00.000-07:00

Ok, so this picture isn't installation art, but ...it should be. The move is called the Camel Clutch, and a great piece of installation art could be done with it, minus the dripping bodily fluids. Perhaps in a train station or something.

Anyways, I was bored, and tired of cleaning, so I stole some interesting questions from an interesting man's blog to answer for myself. Feel free to do the same. It could be...a meme, or something.

Q:If you could decide what will be written on your gravestone, what would you have inscribed?
I think I used to have a good idea of what this would be, but for some reason, all I can think of now would be "Kyla died doing what she loved best. Eating cold refridgerated left-overs and having sex at the same time. Those mussels finally got her in the end though." Man...what a great way to go!

Q: If you were elected to be the leader of the United States tomorrow, what would be your first act?"
I'm taking my relationship in my hands with this one... I think I would turn attention off of the war in Iraq completely, and start attending to the societal needs of my own country, like poverty, homelessness, and a piss poor health care system (depending on where you go).

Q: If you could pick one famous person to be your neighbor, who would you have next door to you?
This is really tough. I can't say Gordon Downie anymore either, because it would be somewhat unoriginal... (although...this has become an exercise of unoriginality already, a while ago). Maybe MC Hammer....we'd be mowing our lawns on the same day, and he'd yell, "STOP-- Hammer time!" We'd bust a move right there and have barbeques together where we could discuss the flash in the pan qualities of his career, and babysit each other's kids. It'd be great.

Q: If you were going to turn to crime to support yourself from now on, what kind of criminal would you become?
I think that if I had to turn to crime...judging from what I've seen in the store, I would deal crack. It's a hazardous lifestyle, but the money...I mean, fucking wow. Except I wouldn't be a derelict crack dealer...I'd be incognito, and neat, keeping a good rule of thumb to have which is, "don't smoke your own stuff. Crack kills."

This is why, boys and girls, I am going to ....oh wait a minute...THERE is no afterlife. HA!

Chrome and steel anagrams of love.

2006-03-24T01:18:00.000-07:00

In the last week or so, I've had some startling realizations about myself. One being, I shoot off my mouth, A LOT sometimes.
More seriously though, I feel somewhat enlightened, although not necessarily in the positive sense of the word. Ha. And all of a sudden I've realized that I can't even put it into words how I'm feeling, other than to say, "I get it."

This occurred to me the day before yesterday, and the most amazing words have been fluttering through my mind ever since, but they're circling slowly like dusty vultures afraid of over-eager hyenas.

I am not in total financial despair in this moment, but I'm getting close.

Today in art h 256, we went through installation art of the eighties up until present day. And it was fucking glorious and inspirational, and you just wait until I get my hands on some resin and make beautiful casts of something that look like beautiful casts of something made out of jello, left to sit by a window in a gallery low to the ground in the late afternoon. The rest of the year will have this blog be graphically laden with installation art.

"Rabbit", by Jeff Koons

Huh?

2006-03-23T01:45:00.000-07:00

Imagine that you're me, and you wrote a poem about shaving girl-parts earlier this week to make yourself laugh. Imagine then, if out of a lack of any other material suited for a poetry reading, that you actually ended up reading said poem. Imagine if you actually won something for reading it. Imagine how your parents would react...that confusing mix of pride and revulsion at such when they find out their daughter wrote a poem, and read it aloud, about shaved pussy or the threat thereof.

I can't believe it! I sincerely hope the din drowned out my "what the fuck?!" as I promptly forgot where I was, and what my home address was. I am thrilled to death, but it was shocking. I have never won anything with my writing before. Along with that, there were so many good readers there. When I had to vote, it was really difficult, because they were all so good tonight. Allison reread a poem she'd read last fall, that I loved then, and still love. I was so glad to get to hear it again, and additionally glad that I got to hear Mike again, and that Tess actually read a piece (of the bittersweet soulsucker that is Ikea). And Bootylicious? A classic forever. More men should think like that.

I'm still kind of speechless/dumbfounded/giddy/grinning stupidly/full up. It was an amazing and terrifying feeling. I think I just upped the bar for myself, which is good...I need something great to aspire to, even if it is the self destruction of writing good poetry. At the same time though, I felt bad too, because I kept wondering if it was only the impetus of a prize that made me write well. I don't think it was, because I was intimidated and rather pessimistic with my outlook towards a "prize", but still.

If anyone Raving Poets related reads this...thankyou. You totally made my *span of time before the feeling of bliss and instant cockiness wears off*.

question the meaning of not knowing the answer

2006-03-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

I went to a presentation on racism tonight... and was startled by so much that I didn't know.

Things to think about:

What is being American/Canadian?

"There are things that you [as a white person] can do if you want, and things you don't have to do if you don't want to. Having to do things 'the white way', for a visible minority, is pretty much non-negotiable. I'm not going to trust you, if you don't ever come into my understanding, the way I am constantly in yours as a way of survival."

Words bespeak millions of things: "Your people. These people. Colored."

One thing that was interesting that came up, that to me, was obvious, was the discussion of the most harmful type of racism. The thought of neo-nazis and white supremacists come up, and one of the people in the film expressed that "yes, they bother me deeply on a personal level, but not as much as the majority of racists, who are people who don't even realize that what they are doing is wrong."
There was this guy in the film (it was actually a documented retreat to counsel against racism) who was one of the latter-- didn't realize that his mode of thinking was so incredibly insidious. He was raised by that. It got to the point in the movie, where it was incredibly hard to watch, much like an episode of Office Space a while ago, on the same subject. Because all you're thinking is, "holy hell man, just shut up. Shut the fuck up, and stop the flow of feces from your mouth." Part of what this man inadvertantly showed, is something I realized I've seen and heard countless times: that is, blaming the oppressed for their own predicament. In the film it was called "the bootstraps theory", which is pretty self-explanatory (ie: we're all human beings, and now everyone has equal opportunity...and it's up to YOU to obtain that for yourself). Basically, invalidating an experience that one has probably never known. Taking the complaints and stories of something you've never been a part of, and judging them as being not valid, because you don't understand.

It was really hard for me to sit through this. It shouldn't have been, but I honestly felt rather uncomfortable a lot, which in retrospect, I should have. If I wasn't uncomfortable, something would have been wrong with me. It was guilt, but it amazingly had a lot to do with my own inability I realized, to talk about it. The more I realized that the worst kind of racist is someone who doesn't know that they are, the more I felt inclined to clam up, by virtue of a discourse that perhaps I don't have as much access to as I thought I did. To be blunt, I didn't want to say anything incredibly stupid. I can know in my heart that I would never intend to say something terrible, but I don't trust my experience. At the same time though, I'm pretty driven to learn more about it. It should be a goal that I can talk about this, because I still dream of my rural mediation group. It's amazing though, because I already feel like I talk about it a ton, (and maybe too much?) to everyone, and yet tonight, I was speechless.

I realized that part of that stems from an upbringing where it was not easy to talk about racism at all. I always knew something was wrong (admittedly, I am still continually realizing the extent of it), but growing up my opinion was never a popular one. I've been told my thoughts are incorrect more often than in a good direction, especially when I was younger. After a while, you start to not talk about these things anymore, because it seems hopeless when you're treading water in the sea of ignorance that is rural Alberta. And you forget what it is you were trying to say, because no one likes to be told they're wrong and stupid or overly idealistic all the time. Tonight I realized that there are very few people that I can be fairly open with when talking about racism. At the same time, there is value in realizing that, to be fair, people ingest information at different times and amounts than everyone else...it doesn't mean they're headed in the wrong direction though, just because they haven't reached the level you're at yet.

There was a girl in my class who was there also (one of like three who actually showed up, despite it being a mandatory requirement--though my prof didn't even show up....) who actually did talk though, and told a story that was illustrative of my nervousness and recent problems with not knowing what to do, or how to do it. She had been running across people all week who's interac cards weren't working, and as a small act of kindness, she'd offer to cover whatever it was that the person was attempting to pay for (small sums, and incredibly generous/nice). Well, it happened again in a Safeway to an older black lady in front of her, and she automatically, without thinking, jumped in and said, "oh, I'll get that for you if you want." Didn't even think about what she was doing, and the lady got really upset ("what, do you think I'm poor because I'm black..." etc.), which is understandable I realized, because it could be seen as very patronizing.

It was a good realization to have, that it is so easy to come across as patronizing and ignorant, despite your best intentions. She didn't even think about it. I doubt I would have either at the time. I would have been like, "hey, that really sucks. Here lemme help you out." And I'm sure there have been instances (if I sat down and thought about it) where I may have been patronizing to a lot of people in the past. The cool part was, was the discussion mediator was a prof of social sciences at the Uni. and gave very good advice: Don't be patronizing. LOL. It seems simple, but it's not.

There was another girl, who had just returned from a trip with 40 other people to T-dot...she is Italian-Cree-Canadian....but as she said, "I look more Italian than Aboriginal, and it puts me in a situation where I hear a lot of hurtful things." Apparently the rest of her group had no bones about making jokes about Aboriginal people, and it really upset her. She asked the one other brown guy on the trip how he dealt with it, and he answered that "they're just jokes. I go along with them, because it gives me a sense of belonging." This girl, after the incident, was ready to drop out of school, she was so discouraged. I was completely blown away. But the support that she got from all the people in that room after sharing that story, was amazing. I of course, sat there like a useless speechless lump, and didn't know what to do, even though I got really emotional about it.

John gave me some very useful advice though, which was to "just do what you can, when you can. If you try and tackle all the racism in the world, you'll burn out (earlier echoed in a similar fashion via Joel), but if you see something racist, injust, whatever....speak up. Anything you do, would be better than walking away, or ignoring it." And it's true. It's not a lot to go on, but it's definately a start.

This is a lot to ingest. I'm going to go do dishes and jump in the tub. My feet have been wet and cold all day. The holes in my shoes have evolved from mere annoyances, to the equivalent of the opening of the Hoover Dam.

I leave you with one last thought: What does it mean to a white person to be white? Do you think about it?

deleted cookies, and no inspiration for you

2006-03-19T22:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not have a good day. Before I went to sleep last night I had this incredible feeling that something was really wrong somewhere, and I couldn't figure it out. I ended up phoning at least one person I knew to placate myself into maybe sleeping soundly, by finding out that at least they were all right. So yeah, if something was horribly wrong with one of you at around 3:30 am this morning, and I didn't call you, I'm sorry.

I had a very interesting/weird dream last night. Not before I watched Donny Darko again though, which of course, is always a good idea to do before you attempt to go to bed. The dream was set in a desert, and involved torture that wasn't really torture, a war, refugees, and some weird food play. Blueberries? It inspired me for a painting though, which is interesting. I never have "painting dreams." I sketched it out at work today.

Two days left to come up with the most amazing poem ever. I see Adam has already sent out a mass email asking for support... clap louder for me, because I'm cooler, kay?

squishy snow bits

2006-03-18T23:38:00.000-07:00

So, me and about half of the population of Edmonton woke up with a hang-over today. It also happened to be the greatest snowfall thusfar in this winter, so I did drag my hung-over self in all my pulsating glory outside to romp around on my snowshoes.

Now, there's a certain length of time you can do this for before you're just overdoing it. When you stop getting "you are a fucking genius," and attention just turns to awkward stares as you squawk along on the sidewalk, one should take off the snowshoes and walk grinning like an idiot home. It was a lot of fun.

I really really had a lot of fun last night. I would like to thank all my friends for coming out, it was a total blast, with the exception of walking home in a blizzard and a very awkward situation.

I like poop

2006-03-17T00:59:00.000-07:00

After sitting back and being in a relatively good mood for the last eight hours of yesterday, I realized that the reason I was so foul-tempered and genuinely just angry for no good reason had to do with a lot of things. Actually it has to do with everything.

Sometimes the "big picture" as Tess so aptly put it tonight, just gets too overwhelming. Normally, I am able to combat this with a healthy cynicism, but a day or so ago, I just sort of lost the ability to do that. I would even go so far as saying sometimes you need a slightly unhealthy cynicism to fight complete and utter resignation to the world.

But I'm cured! I bombed my poetry reading last night with the first political poem ever...but at the same time, it needed to be said. Yes, it wasn't subtle, but I realized afterwards that it's something that can't afford to be subtly approached anymore. I also realized that it's the first thing I've done in doing anything to act against society for the institutional and societal inequity held towards Aboriginals. I don't care if they hated it, or what, but the fact was that I read it in front of total strangers. Not all of them tuned me out, and maybe one person got thinking about it (I know they did, I got approached by a person afterwards). And that was completely inspirational.

Alas, I have homework to do. I also have to work on writing "the greatest poem ever." I'm going to have a hand at a few of them over the weekend. I'm up to two already to pick from. Hopefully I have something decent by Wednesday, because I'm fairly certain I'll actually be completely broke by then, because of an expenditure at the bookstore today. I had a gift certificate, and I got "The Outlaw book of American Poetry" (something I've been salivating about getting) and the last copy of a Bukowski book I haven't seen before (older stuff). I couldn't stand the thought of someone else buying it. I had to. You don't understand.

Ok. Homework = go time.

Sidenote: found something that was utterly hilarious here...I didn't know that pooping in one's pants or peeing in one's bed (and letting it stagnate for an amazing number of days) was a fetish. Oh sweet naivety!

The Foulness: part II

2006-03-15T15:03:00.000-07:00

I realized today that I'm so incredibly disgusted with the world in general. The general populace is better at evading the chore of being good than actually being good. We're also very good at making sure the downtrodden stay that way. If I were to enquire if someone who has gone missing because he got evicted from the YMCA had been around, the first thing the person I would ask would say is, "why? Does he owe you money?"

People are not decent. Some have their shining moments, but I'm inclined to think that we're better at being shitheads than anything else. So then, if our world is a bustling orgy of shitheads, what the hell is the point?

I'm sure if I had faith, I could at least pretend that there is hope for humanity, but sadly I don't.

I threw a half full coffee in the Square today and watched it explode as it met concrete, begging for someone to come up to me and berate me for doing it, so that I could say, "do you honestly think that if I'd thrown it in the garbage, that somehow the world would be less disgusting?" But of course, no one had the decency.

Sure...maybe I am being a miserable immature person right now if you just look at that one act, but honestly, people live their whole lives not questioning acts like that (or worse), and they're still happy. Is it better to focus on just the tiny microcosm of your own life and forget the world? Is it easier that way to just let the pain and misery of other people fade to white noise in the background?

Even better, what do you do if you do care about people, and you impair yourself and your ability to help, by trying to help, by trying to be a good person who stands up for what's right?

Bitchenesque

2006-03-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

So, things have returned to their regular state of deflation and aimlessness here in Canada, the "inferior" country.

I learned something valuable tonight....Yes, your country and his country, and conversations about them, will cause tension. I may not be that much of a patriot, but I still love my country. And he loves his. And for some reason, this worries me, because his country scares the proverbial poop out of me. I know that fear = ignorance, and that I shouldn't even be thinking about it (we're worlds away from that "discussion" at this point), but it still concerns me, because I worry about things. I worry about everything-- it's what I do.

I'm really really cranky right now. I didn't want to find out that someone I have tremendous respect for is meth-affiliated, though it certainly explains a lot about him. I didn't want to come home and be treated as "the most annoying person in the world" as usual. I mean, honestly, if I am the most annoying person in the world, why isn't anyone else telling me so? If I'm annoying, please say something. That sort of set the tone for the conversation with le boy who in all his adorable exuberance decided to play the "let's rip Canada" game, and see how angry he could make the girl thing, because he's never seen her mad or irritated before.

I'm SO irritated right now. I need to calm down. I've been working on this poem for three days, and I want to finish it, and get feedback, but I think it will just irritate me more to work on something so politically bound right now. I don't know what to do. Folding laundry will irritate me. Cleaning the bathroom will downright aggravate me.

I think I will just sit here and marinate in my foulness.

we shared a moment

2006-03-09T21:09:00.000-07:00

Suffice to say, I am in love with John. Yep, I've said it. I didn't know you could have so much fun with one person, not being away from them for more than two hours in the course of seven days. And it still didn't seem like we had enough time together. I am sad today because he will be in Anchorage two hours from now, but at the same time, I am incredibly calm because it's just the beginning. It's cool too because now we have this experience and the memories it created. It was like 168 hours of a first date, which is hilarious because we've been at "I love you Gary"[1] for seven months.

So here's where I'm at right now. We got to the airport expecting to have 2 hours of a leisurely non-stressful goodbye, and went to get his boarding pass. It turns out that if you are American, you have to go straight into security after you get your boarding pass. Enter: Me tearing up way prematurely and not keeping my cool like I promised I would. We said our somewhat rushed goodbyes (although private, thanks to the nice people at the Alaska Airlines desk), and I walked off in a daze and decided to fill a small portion of my new void with Harveys. At Harveys (yes there is a reason I'm talking about a fast-food restaurant), in my bereft state, I saw something on the ground next to one of the pillars in the eating area and me, being the type of person who picks up strange things on the ground, bent down and picked it up. A brand new blue headband (like, a winter one) emblazoned with "Alaskan Iditarod." Yeah, I didn't used to believe in signs. Yeah, I also know that the Iditarod was last week, so it's not unlikely that someone came through to go see the teams cross the line...but still! I will take my "sign", and I will put it on my backpack, because my boyfriend's dad was actually there last week and saw the teams cross the lines (and took cool pictures). It was just a weird but strangely uplifting thing to happen at that precise moment I think.

Right now, I am at the point where I'm attending to all the cleaning that I neglected throughout the week, but running into some tears when I find things he's forgotten. A hair elastic, a pack of Marlboros, American change, and his smell. It's sick, this love thing, I tell you, but it's bittersweet, because I know that this boy is a keeper. I haven't laughed like that, been touched like that, looked at like that, cried like that, ever, over anyone in my life. But I'm looking forward to the rest, I tell you whut.

So, I guess the only thing perplexing me now really, is that I feel bad for blogging this, because most of my friends are single (Fear Not!) and have probably wrinkled up their noses in disgust multiple times by now, but I figure that rather then, I dunno, talking about it constantly and non-stop, that this might be the better approach. You know...giving you the option to stop reading it at anytime.

In other news, Beatrix the Sea Rabbit, attempted to end his/her life yesterday, exiting the small bowl, and doing a flip off the HP Photo scanner onto the keyboard at John's fingers. It was quite dramatic, and my dad was on the phone going, "what? Who is this Beatrix person? Are they ok?"

Also, as terrible as it sounds, I miss the store. I am excited to go back to work tomorrow. I also have applied for a city job as an activity coordinator/tour guide/interpreter with the city of Edmontonia, so wish me luck on that. I'm thinking about getting on as an assistant caregiver in a group home also, because the more I think about it, the less I want to work a la the city of SA again, no matter how good the pay is. My dad will be upset because it was a "guaranteed", but I'm tired of working there, and I want to have a job a little more relevant to my actual degree.

More things to think about in my life:
*Moving
*Going to Alaska in August
*Going to BC in May (I'm getting paid to do a 30 ft. x 6 ft mural on the fence of a friend to my brother)
*A spring AND summer session. Fuck. (both of the courses I needed were at the same time- those smarmy U of A bastards)
*Where will I really live in the future?

Where I will live in the future is still a conundrum in my mind, unfortunately. I have an inkling that I will catch the "disease of Alaska" as a friend in my Ling class put it (she loves it there), after going there in August, but at the same time...I have never ever had to think about NOT living in Canada before, although it's the same for John, I'm sure. It's something that only time will tell ( a long long while from now), but it's admittedly tough to mull through. I've realized that I love being near my family and friends, and that I'm not good at being away from them, because I'm really bad at correspondence.

[1] When "dearie" is mistaken for the name of another man, madness and a good running joke ensues. And yes, it's corny as it was meant to be, to call someone "dearie."

Love inspired-terror

2006-03-01T18:50:00.000-07:00

T- 22 hours... holy fuck. HOLY fuck. Holy mother mother fuck fuck. That is all.

"I am here for you if you'd only care" - James Blunt

2006-02-27T19:28:00.000-07:00

Today was a strange day. I realized a lot of things.

a) I am lonely. A lot. I have lots of friends, and I have a very attentive boyfriend. Not only that, but I do quite well at entertaining myself most of the time. For some reason though, my home makes me feel desperately lonely sometimes.

b) I felt insanely guilty for using the time between my classes today productively. Because Crystal and I always vowed to be productive, and never were because we would talk and drink coffee the whole time.

c) The rules of grammar and syntax are becoming mind-numbingly clear to me. I hadn't anticipated that. It just sort of snuck up on me.

Yesterday, was a fantastic day. For some reason, I felt like a million bucks. I mean, that isn't to say that I don't feel pretty good today, but man, I had a great day yesterday. Everyone at work was in a good mood, and talkative, which is not a Sunday that I'm used to.

And yes, some store stories:

I. If you feel the need to roll a twenty into a tube and sniff a line of cocaine with it- please clean it off afterwards instead of unrolling it for the clerk to pay for cigerettes (they'll kill you) and causing copious amounts of your cosmetic drug to fall onto the counter. It's disgusting, but admittedly, funnier then hell too.

II. Talking about beating someone up on your cellphone because they have "been pulling some shady, shady shit on me," isn't shady at all.

III. Please don't use our phone to call your dealer.

IV. Mr. Enigma came in frequently this weekend. He is the man that lent me $50, no questions asked, last month. Of course I have since repaid him, just including the money owed into his change one day. However, he keeps coming in, and being completely random. He came in twice yesterday, which always makes my day, because I get to puzzle over what he's about with every scarce clue gained. Yesterday's random acts of churlish affection were, "what kind of cigerettes do you smoke? Do you have baking soda?" One thing said for each trip. It kills me, because for every one thing he says, I say three, and get no answers out of him. I don't pepper him with questions, just really vague pleasantries, but yes, he is Mr. Enigma.

T-2 days!

Oh my Hortons!

2006-02-24T00:46:00.000-07:00

All things considered, I had a good day. I'm hovering over a good poem right now like a trucker pausing before a magnificant shit, and I can feel it coming closer to the forefront of my brain the more I sit and think about it.

I spent the morning hanging around my grandmother who today was an invaluable dispenser of sage knowlege and wisdom. She showed up at my house at 9:30 [2], and crocheted while we bemoaned the lack of Journal don le pad, and I struggled to wake myself up and brace for the funeral.

We left at ten and creatively managed to walk down Jasper Ave and not end up at the church until twenty to two. We were so creative, it took us roughly 3.5 hours to walk fifteen blocks, and several infusions of beverages and bitchy barristas.

The funeral itself...was a very moving event, as it should have been. It sounds strange to say it was "nice", but it was really nice. They did a really good job, and it was more a happy rememberance with some humor then it was formal and horrifically depressing. I did not really like the pastor though. Halfway through, his sermon seemed to veer away from "funeral-related" to "we still love all y'all Christian haters out there. We're going to save all the Atheists and the heathens." It came out of nowhere. I guess funerals present unique opportunities for a conversion, although, you'd think that could run just as much to the contrary.

One thing: I do however, have a renewed sense of "something" (awe?) for people who do have a Faith. It's a lot of bull and poppycock to swallow, in my opinion, but if it makes you so at peace as you were today with such a senseless tragedy-- power to you.

I have begun keeping an eye out for apartments that I like, even though I'd like to stay in my building. There are lofts for rent on 114 Ave- probably way out of my range, but always worth a look.

[1] "Flew" by Jennifer Davis. Oil on Canvas, (2003).

[2] This is old people speak for "why the hell have you been sleeping in so long? It's almost time for a coffee and then lunch already!

stuck on an epiphany

2006-02-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

Today has been a good day. I got le super package extraordinaire in the mail from the boy, which was a great way to start it. At three p.m. when I officially was capable of "starting" anything. Dog bless reading week. Amen. So I have a hand-made amazing StrongBad valentine that I'm fighting the urge to hang up prominently, for the sake of the feelings of other people living here. Oh, I'll show you though, if you ask.

I'm sure I spent some of the day doing something useful in many forms. I cleaned the washroom namely, and worked for a few hours in le store. Nothing of great interest happened at the store though, dissappointingly enough.

[1]

A few days ago, I talked to a very old hometown aqquaintance for a while, and had a terrific conversation. It turns out that like me, he escaped to Edmonton, and has done quite well for himself. He has always been very into music (singing/songwriting/etc.) but it turns out that he's got a penchant for writing, and has great plans for an incredible sounding book. In anycase, it was funny, because I feel like in that one conversation we found zen in each other--something that, despite knowing him since grade three (before he changed schools) and throughout highschool, never occurred to me. We'd always enjoyed talking to each other, but never had time to stop and talk, and different circles of friends that only met occaisionally. Though, admittedly, my circle of friends was more the "circle of those I debauch with", and not really strength-filled. Anyways, there has been talk of getting together and goading each other into creative frenzies of writing and productivity via brainstorming and beer. Should be good.

My knee popped into place yesterday. All is well on the homefront. Currently I am at T-8 days until John's arrival from the cold climate to the North. I'm excited, but I'm getting nervous too, admittedly. I guess I'm worried about him getting treated like crap because he's American. I mean, I've just noticed lately that it is so natural to say something demeaning about them without thinking. Hell, I used to be one of those people, and I'll still do it if it involves a certain ass-face of a president, but making fun of Americans has just become this little humorous mainstay in our country. If all else fails, there's always a dumb American thing to make fun of, right? Is your date thinking you're lame? Crack one about 9/11! If I were to crack a joke about 9/11 to John, as good a sense of humor he has, it would crash and burn. Like a plane into a building. There. You see? Unthinkingly. I'll apologise about this later.

[1] No, this is not what it may first appear to be. Fucking potheads.

I'm so sorry.

2006-02-17T22:20:00.000-07:00

My friend Crystal passed away yesterday. Her car was hit by a semi-truck trailer on Stony Plain Highway yesterday morning on her way to work. A mutual friend told me after my last midterm today, when I asked her why Crystal hadn't shown up for said midterm. I don't think it's really sunk in yet. It still feels like it's just a joke that a twenty-one year old with such a good heart and such a beautiful smile would not be here anymore, just like that, after saying, "see you Friday for that pint after our final midterm eh?" I still just keep seeing her face in my head, and hearing her laugh and joke around, and it seems believable that this isn't real, because it doesn't feel like it is.

Going nuclear 5 a.m. style

2006-02-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

So in some bid to be completely intelligent and not die not even half-way through my midterms, I decided last night that I would just try and be at the Fine Arts building by five a.m.

This is completely logical, seeing as the first LRT doesn't leave until 5:41 from my station. So I got there a little around six, and ended up setting off a security alarm in the hallway as I snuck in behind a cleaning lady. Evasive action led me to the elevator, led me to the door leading to the General Arts office hallway, and to the assistance of two other girls attempting the same first come, first serve spring session registration feat I was.
Those guys up there in their little offices, should be shot for thinking that personal registration is completely efficient and practical, especially in the middle of midterm week.

Rounding the corner to the office, there was a line of scruffy art children stretching down to the actual office. And let me tell you .... art children that have spent the night in a hallway to get into a photog course, smell exceedingly bad. I don't know what they do, but some of them smell a lot worse then the general population. So, just when you thought there were no faculty stereotypes left....there you have it. Children of the Garba-I mean, Art.

Yes, I'm being a snotface, because Ed. kids are more made fun of, honestly. No, I didn't get my course. Yes, I'm grouchy. [1]

I did however, find a suprisingly good remedy to not getting into the photog course, which is to instead take the other section of the same course that consists of typography. It's a lot more technical, supposedly, but I'm actually pretty interested in it.

After walking around in a dazed stupor for a while, and running into old aqquaintances all over the place, I went to class (waste of time, except for relearning the meaning of copula again, which is the sexiest grammar-related word ever by the way), and then took a break to study my notes briefly (for the first time, ha ha...) before writing my EDPS midterm. I think it went ok. A couple of answers were not verbatim, but I really don't think I failed it at all.

So yeah, I'm tired. My grandparents are back from California and demanded we have supper together tonight. It was actually a lot of fun, and good to see them again. They also brought me four packs of Rice-A-Roni (I'm told this is "perfectly good food that your aunt wanted to throw away") of various flavors, as well as yet another pair of knockoff sunglasses from Mexico. However, the highlight of all my goodies is this awesome beach bag that my grandma bought in Mexico without looking at what was on it (to carry her groceries around). It cost her like ten pesos or something and it's got a skeleton wearing a floral hat and a red skirt on it, colorful stripes, and cheap red rubber handles. It's awesome.

[1] Someone that I knew lined up there too, and looked me straight in the eye as he butted in front of me after a casual stroll in at about a quarter to seven. I seethed for quite a while about this, swearing I would throw rocks at him if he got into the course and I didn't (I being the photog wannabe right behind him who needs one last stinkin' art credit to do specifically in this time slot to graduate on "time"), but later got over it, because the last person to get into photog was like six people ahead of us both. All that temporary loathing gave me a massive headache though, so...serves me right I guess.

Met (22 Kt. fission; Project Tea Pot) 1955.

2006-02-12T03:00:00.000-07:00

Succumbing to indirect peer pressure and self-conceit:

Three Names you go by;
1.Emerson
2. Kyla Monster
3. Kyla Bear

Three Parts of Your Heritage
1. Irish
2. British
3. Scottish (my skin is blue)

Three Things That Scare You
1. Drowning
2. Bitey dogs/wolverines
3. Mountain Lions

Three of Your Everyday Essentials
1. Music
2. Cigerettes
3. Coffee

Three Things You Are Wearing Right Now
1. Blue jeans
2. New glasses
3. "Warning!" tee-shirt

Three of Your Favorite Songs - at the moment
1. Run- Snow patrol
2. rental car - Beck
3. this mess we're in- PJ Harvey & Radiohead

Three Things You Want in a Relationship (other than Real Love)
1. Equality/mutual respect
2. Meshing family units (so important when half of your existing extended family is psychotic)
3. Good conversation

Two Truths and a Lie (in any order)
1. I hate the smell of bars
2. I don't like sex
3. Being in large crowds of people makes me extremely uncomfortable.

Three PHYSICAL Things about the Opposite/Same Sex that Appeal to You
1. Eyes
2. Voice
3. Hands

Three of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Screwing around with art-related things
2. Reading
3. Writing

Three Things You want to do really badly right now
1. Read for pleasure
2. Puke (cinnamon hearts + 1 beer + five cups of coffee = stomach turning inside out)
3. Find $1, 000, 000 in the street with no one around.

Three Places You Want to go
1. Ireland
2. Russia
3. Alaska

Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Have children
2. Build an adobe
3. Publish a book/collection

Three Ways that you are stereotypically a Girl/Guy
1. I love clothes
2. I mother people a lot.
3. I pms like a motherfucker

Three people I would like to see take this quiz
1. John Bear
2. Adam
3. William

hurts so good

2006-02-08T23:37:00.000-07:00

I went to the first meeting of the Raving Poets tonight....it was delicious. I loved it.

When I actually got up there, this big ugly thing came out of my stomach and throat and dissipated. I was nervous and sweaty and voice shaking, but it felt damn good to be that exuberant, to see that I have a voice beneath all this hair and gristle.

And I feel graphic again. That's right. Cuntaliciously graphic.

Also, I realized that I was being a dinkface about a supposed lost friendship. When it shows, it really shows. I'd forgotten that piece of knowlege somewhere.
Thanks dude.

just because I'm lying on the ground doesn't make me sad

2006-02-08T00:42:00.000-07:00

A few things on my mind today:

My earphones are slaughtered, and the "stand-in" pair are these weird chunky cylindrical buds from the eighties. The foam fell off right away, so now using them is the equivalent of sticking spinning aluminum pop cans in one's ear.

Something I've been in loathe to tell anyone but might as well get off my chest: It's been there for a while now that one of my friendships has disintegrated into meaningless yet still casually friendly cohabitation. So there's that cat out of the bag. I used to be worried and stressed about it, but for now, I just miss him. And I hate admitting it for some reason, because maybe that makes me an over-sentimental or clingy nerd, but it's true. Things have not been the same at all, though admittedly, there are more factors there then just simply living together. I do understand that it's part of growth though, so I've given up trying to "make things better" between us. I don't want to be an annoyance anymore. Admittedly though, I still wonder if it's me that's changed, instead of him, but it's hard for me to see that, because in my own eyes, I just trundle along consistantly with control just out of grasp at all times, and drama ever-present, and that doesn't change. I wonder if I've turned lame or something though, without even knowing it.

Have not written a poem since December. The first Raving Poets night is tomorrow, and I'll go, but I'm praying for some sort of inspiration that I have not been able to find on my own. Because it's driving me crazy. I feel a little artistically stale. If I pick up a pencil and a piece of paper, nothing comes. Painting....have lots of ideas and no paint or time. TIME. I never have enough time. In good news, I've deigned to start working on my old old print transfer project while watching TV, when midterms are over. It's my spring break project, amongst others (like actually working on the book some more [2]).

For the last three weeks, my time on the weekends has been strictly sanctioned off to other people. Not unenjoyably, but I'm finding it hard to find time for myself at appropriate times. During the week isn't an option, because that's when I should be reading/studying, and I didn't do that last week, and now I'm behind and midterms start next week. I have to feed the cats for six days, starting Friday, which basically means that I have to take an hour and a half to get to St. Albert, and an hour and half to get back (if I'm lucky) every second day, starting Sunday. And study for midterms all of next week. And work whenever Vanessa decides last minute that she can't/doesn't want to. [1] Do laundry. Go grocery shopping. Go fucking insane. And on and on and on.

I think (know) my art history midterm is going to be a hard one. The ed. policies, might be a little hard, but I'm not sure. I also lost my syllabus for art H, which sucks. I have been reading the articles from the course pack, but also praying that they're in the right order (which they seem to be).

On the lighter side of things, I just finished my Ling. 205 assignment, which consisted of questions such as:

1)Demonstrate the use of the following five verbs, by writing a sentence using each. (speak, cook, fornicate...)

2) Label the category that the underlined word falls into (ie: noun, verb, pronoun)

3)Is the following sentence grammatically correct? Circle yes or no. If no, rewrite the sentence correctly. (we're talking sentences like, "I like them children."

In short, it's for 5% of our mark, and you'd have to be an idiot to not rock it. And yet, the grammar in this blog.....ahh, irony.

Lastly....I fell asleep at school today, for the first time in a long time, up in the Ed. Atrium (yeah, that's right. And it's swank too) for three hours. This was hugely significant to me, because I'm not the type of person who should sleep in public because I have a fifty-fifty chance of snoring and being awakened by giggles. However, I did not snore, but had really awful waking dreams-- like a whole reel of them falling into the category of "going to school, and finding out you're nekkid, or smell really really bad, or peeing your pants in public." To have those dreams, while actually sleeping in public, is nothing short of traumatizing. Because in my dream, I woke up nekkid on the same couch, but then I actually woke up on the same couch for real a few minutes later, fully clothed.

On that conclusionary note: Don't read Ballad either if in the process of avoiding trauma.

[1] Yes, I totally pulled this on her once, but she was the one who started it, and now she's done it twice. And she'll do it again, I'm counting on it.

[2] Is it statements like this that make me lame? Because it always sounds lame to me when I say that, but I mean that's what I want the end result of this project to be, so...?

2006-02-06T22:43:00.000-07:00

You know....some people deserve to be thrown down a garbage chute sometimes, from like, the twenty-third floor. Just like the live rabbit I was told about today, who was found in the dumpster, still alive, with a black eye, but relatively unharmed.[1] This is just one of many animal woes in our building lately. A few weeks ago, three kittens were left in a box in the stairwell. But still, that poor rabbit. How does it cross someone's mind that this is a logical course of action?

Lately, I've been really busy, hence the lack of any posts of substance. Last week I went to the Edward Burtynsky exhibit at the EAG with Joel and Allan, but otherwise laid fairly low due to my weird financial fluctuations. But back to Burtynsky...I was really impressed by the exhibit. It was amazing. It's one thing to see photography exhibits, but a complete other thing to see the vastness of these chromotography prints showing, really, the vastness of our impact on earth. He has an incredible eye for composition, and for once I wasn't thinking, "it's only in an art gallery because that dude was lucky to have a camera when that happened..." Because the stuff that Burtynsky was capturing has been happening for a long time. All of his photography displays the culmination of what we are doing to the earth; not just a turtle trapped in a sixpack ring, but say, a mountain of tires photographed in such a way that you can see the individual details of each, but also see them as they sit there in piles of thousands of rubber that isn't going anywhere except into the atmosphere when they're burnt. Also riveting were the photos of the quarries, especially the marble quarries in Italy. It all just made me wonder and think about so many things. Resources, who was using them, how long each "event" had been going on for...everything. Lastly, the ship dismantling yards in Bangladesh were incredible, and actually, downright spooky to see. How could something so massive and resource exhausting, have such a seemingly short life? I'm sure that the oldest ship we saw there was no older than 60 years. For a big hunk of floating metal...it seemed dumb that they wouldn't have longer lives. Though yes, there are a whole lot of other factors that would come into play with the lifespan of a cargo ship past what it was made from.

We also breezed through "Itukiagatta", but really, what's fun about looking at cultural appropriation with completely inadequate description? When I see something on a plinth or a pedestal that is so completely out of context in it's surroundings, that I could buy a replica of for $50 around the corner at a tourist shop, I feel ripped off, and I feel like the people that made them are very definately ripped off, although for different reasons. After a lifetime of seeing little soapstone statues at millions of tourist shops, I feel bad when I see them in museums or galleries, because of thoughts like that. Art as a commodity is a hard concept to swallow. I think the kicker was that the collection belonged to a banker who used to work up North, and felt that "these things should be shared with the world" instead of leaving them there. It reeks of salvage paradigm.

To the credit of the actual work and carvings we saw, they were exquisite. Like, some of them were amazing, except again, with so little background available to each sculpture, it sucked. When the only thing that comes to my mind when looking at a piece of art is, "oooh....that looks pretty," something is wrong.

Today, I spent the day getting little errands done. I went to the bank and figured out why bounced cheques bounce (pay attention, it's called "$200 partial"), and got the "partial" removed so it doesn't occur again. I also applied for my first pre-approved credit card. Oh baby. Oh baby. Emergencies only. Although, I'm sure we all start out saying that.

T-24 days until John gets here. We are going to the Moneen concert at PowerPlant on March 3rd...come one come all! The guy's never been to a concert before...we gotta make it rock for him. My aunt has thrown a little stick into the equation, as she's apt to do at her leisure, that might get interesting though. She's going to BC on March 2nd, and wants me to house-sit and look after le chien until that following Sunday that she gets back. I am not enthused about this at all, but at the same time, we'll have the place to ourselves, and she is letting us use the Explorer. It's rather annoying, and I can't put my finger on why...Oh, I know...because it's not my place. That bugs the hell out of me. I just wanted to have him over at OUR place. Not anyone elses place. Because I've never had a boyfriend come to the place that I live in, that is actually my home. Even if it is only until August. So, I've been entertaining thoughts of just bringing the dog to our house for three days or so. I'd have to worry about parking, and (LOL) talk to Adam about the dog (LOL), but really...I'd be much happier. I don't like her house. I don't like the idea of a spare bedroom done up in chantilly lace. I don't want to eat her food. I want John to be able to go where ever he wants to conveniently (LRT and whatnot), and not be stranded in suburbia. And fuck...I don't want to have to drive to school and park there. I am not waking up at the crack of dawn to take the number 8 to get to school.

Lastly, I talked to my brother and his wife last night (they finally got a phone, and it's a Vonage phone), which was really nice. I really like his wife, she's an awesome girl. The little bun in the oven is doing well, and currently enjoys kicking the crap out of it's mother's belly button. My brother has finally caught baby-fever and now spends his time buying baby crap on E-Bay, when he's not out buying baby crap in Penticton. It's thrilling! Apparently his wife thinks the baby will be a boy also, which is what I thought at the beginning. [2]

[1] They don't know from which floor it was sent from.

[2] I'm going to lose $5.00 if I'm wrong. To my Grandma.

I ate the egg with the grey spot on it. Don't worry. I'm fine.

2006-02-02T15:08:00.000-07:00

Holy gutbusters batman....Thankyou Simon. I think this will occupy my reading for quite some time now.

Today has been good. I lucked out on getting a doctor's appointment with the opthamologist tomorrow, so I will be able to get glasses sooner then I thought, because now I definately need them. Nothing spells embarrassment by having to wear glasses that are missing an arm because it has been sheared off. Tape not working!

Two questions: Who would like to come to Simon's wedding with me? And who wants to come glasses shopping with me (monday afternoon I think)?

the forecast of Jesus

2006-02-02T00:41:00.000-07:00

So the real update is that somehow my dad wrangled my mom into letting me keep the money. [1] So I will be ok afterall, but I still ended up just dumping everything on her today anyways, which makes me feel awful. I did ask her to ask my dad to sit me down and talk about financial management though, so that will be good. I feel a lot better about things, and it is not even because I now have the money, but that really I'm overreacting. And yeah, sometimes I overeact, but sometimes if no one talks me down from that, which my mom is good at, I'll stay up there and continue to freak out about everything going wrong and it all being my fault. Because sometimes, believe it or not, things are not my fault, but I make them my fault. I don't know where I've learned that little trick, but it's amazing.

"Oh my god! These earthworms are wiggling all over the sidewalk in the rain! They'll be killed!"

"Oh geez....my fault. I'm sorry."

So admittedly, this letter that still continues to sit on my desk, waiting for me to read it one more time so it can crush my soul into tiny bits, is still bothering me. I had an appointment for yesterday, but the priority of the practicum-goers of this semester takes precedence over monster people who eat children and fail their practicum, so I got bumped to February 7th. For a while now since that letter, I think I've just been in denial or something of it. I read it twice, and acknowleged that it would definately be harmful to keep reading it, because honestly, nothing educational can be gleaned from it that I haven't already realized, and haven't already cried about. And then I felt like my resolve to do better and kick ass had been hardened, and that I would be fine, but so help me, today was not a day of "hard-ass resolving to do better." Sometimes that little piece of paper with doodling on the back makes me want to just give up and move to an abandoned villa in Mexico where I can write my days away and smoke peyote. If I smoked peyote. Maybe I'd just smoke Marlboros.

I went to another keynote speaker of International week today, and I had a startling realization. It was called "Our Missing Sisters", and it was about all the missing aboriginal women across Canada. The number is at 470, and we never hear about them. There is a Canadian Aboriginal women's advocacy group run out of Ottawa, but they don't do anything outside of Ottawa, which is where our speaker comes in. Now there is a --fuck--I'll have to update this later with actual facts and whatnot, right now I'm too tired---chapter in Edmonton primarily, because we are actually the city that is the cause of the most concern in Canada. Our Aboriginal population is on the verge of surpassing the Aboriginal population in Winnipeg, at 50, 000.

The bottom line I guess, is that it was a good presentation, but I felt it could have been a lot better. I've realized lately that by making issues comfortable to talk about, that people are more inclined to be apathetic. I argue that the way that the media has progressed, we operate on a system of change affected the best through shock and discomfort. This woman was too gentle on the statistics (she decided we probably "didn't want to hear them." Like holy crap woman, why are you here then?), and just-- For the seriousness of the issue, she did it no justice. That said though, out of all the things I've heard on this matter (regarding specifically the Picton murders, and the murders of Aboriginal women in Edmonton), she and her organization seem to be the ones doing the most to bring awareness about, and being the most effective at it. Like, I really have to hand it to them and her, because they've been very aggressive, and very successful at getting their concerns across.

Some interesting things:

A police department in Saskatoon was found to have been using photocopied pictures of missing Aboriginal women for target practice.

An Aboriginal woman in Grand Prairie who phoned 9-1-1 to report that her estranged husband was breaking into her house to kill her, did not get help. No emergency crews were sent, and her body was found 12 days later by her adult children who were concerned as to her whereabouts.

One of the speaker's employees at a woman's shelter went outside to get some air in a back alley, and realized that since she was aboriginal, if she was killed right then and her body was found in a back alley, they would assume her to be a prostitute.

Almost 2/3 of the prostitutes in Edmonton (out of about 500 known) are Aboriginal.

She told us a story about a little girl whom she'd met, who had been in elementry school and been teased about being Native. The teasing got so bad that she was embarrassed to be Aboriginal, and to the point where she was sent to culture counselling because she was found in the bathroom with a bottle of bleach, at 6 years old, trying to "change the color of her skin."

At the end of the presentation, I asked the speaker if there were even any Aboriginal Advocacy groups up in northern Alberta. There aren't. I've since been sort of churning it around all day that one should be started. When I think about Cold Lake and the underlying area around it, and the lack of resources or information, and general apathy/racist attitudes held as normal there, it could be really helpful to start changing attitudes somehow, through a group like this. Even if it was doing presentations at schools, or at town meetings or writing angry letters to a few of the town counsellors whom I know from personal experience are racist, and MLA's and such. I guess I need to define more where to start exactly though. But I'm definately thinking about it a lot.

[1] Read: exercised some logical thinking power.

The Tag Lives ON

2006-02-01T23:47:00.000-07:00

Four Jobs I've Had

1. Feeding sea life at the aquarium in St. Andrews
2. Recreational assistant at the Pines extended-care center
3. Reporter for the hometown 'Base paper
4. Employee of the city of Stink, cutting grass and snorting hydraulic fluid.

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over

1. Office Space
2. Garden State
3. Spirited Away
4. Fight Club

Four Places I Have Lived

1. St. Albert, AB
2. Fort Simpson, NWT
3. Cold Lake, AB
4. Cowansville, QC

Four TV Shows I Love To Watch
# House
# Scrubs
# Prison Break
# Desperate Housewives

Four Places I Have Been On Vacation:

1. Arizona
2. Washington
3. All over Canada
4. Through most of the northern states on the bottom 48.

Four Of My Favorite Dishes

1. Pyrogies
2. Tandoori Chicken
3. Green Onion cakes and Lemon Chicken
4. Egg sandwiches

Four Websites I Visit Daily

1. Questionable Content
2. Ink slinger
3. Mad Scientist
4. Evil Science

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now

1. Alaska
2. Not here.
3. Corfu
4. Tim Hortons

Oh please oh please....

2006-01-31T22:53:00.000-07:00

Found out today, that I am above water financially again, which is cool. Actually it's really cool, but only to the point that I'm actually debt-free right now. I wonder how long that lasts...

Update: The answer is that the end of my financial woes was extremely shortlived. As I was writing that, my mom phoned me and informed me she was taking it back out, because the extra I'd discovered today was actually my rebate check, that my dad had deposited. She wants it to pay off the mastercard though. Fair. I should have enough for a bus pass at least, but not a hell of a lot of much else. That pisses me off. I mean, I understand, but talk about a killjoy.

I'm so tired of constantly owing Adam money. Every month the poor boy helps me out. And that's not right. I mean, I should be able to take care of myself, and I can't seem to do that. I'm trying, with the job thing, and trying to make ends meet with that and what my parents help me out with, but it's not working out so hot. I'm very apprehensive about growing up to be financially inept like my dad's sisters.

Part of me wants to tell Adam that we should just go with seperate food purchases and meals, simply for the fact that I could be cheaper if I didn't have the guilt of feeding him crap food accompanying me. I enjoy what we have now ("the Deal") though too. There is disparity however at what "stage" of life we are at. He got to skip the "I'm a student, therefore I have to eat crap food because I have no money" stage, and I should be in that stage, and instead am in a luxurious stage of, "I have a budding career, and now I eat great", that I cannot necessarily afford on my budget. That said though, again, it's not that I don't enjoy it, I just don't know if I can keep doing it realistically.

I could quit smoking too, that would help. It would be an extra $118 a month, but which is easier to cut? Smoking or food? I'll let you guess.

Entertainment? Out.

And one more thing. I think I'm spending too much money on coffee. I hate that it's come down to this, but I'm going to have to cut that out for a while.

Fuck. Here today, I was so excited, because I thought, "maybe I can start saving. Maybe I can keep myself out of debt with Adam permanently, because I would really like that. Maybe I can get a headstart on saving money for when John comes to see me."

I'm so upset with myself right now. Like, FUCK. I'm sounding like Durran.

Anyone who throws "oh baby, we're so sympathetic-s" at me is going to get killed. I'm not in terrible shape, I'm just unhappy at my irresponsibility, and I'm unhappy that I'm complaining about it when there are other people (friends) who are in much worse shape than I am.

Proof that the bible is true

2006-01-27T15:07:00.000-07:00

The good news is that I'm not hungover from a delightful infusion of "Black Velvet" [1] into my liver last night, but I do still feel the penchant to yarg stomach stew all over the place given the wrong amount of jostling.

My father has written an interesting paper. He will be presenting it in London, England. I'm very proud of him.

We've been talking a lot more than we usually do lately, (dad and I) which I'm really enjoying. It turns out that I'm not the only one who has a well-hid fascination with nuclear tests, and we've been talking about that a lot, as well as our country's inauguration into being "Jesusland", as Joel has succinctly joked about in the past. In regards to nuclear tests in particular though, my father has put me onto a book to find...that I would put on here, but just realized would be a bad idea, because then my father would find my blog (le gasp!). He's been searching the internet fairly strenuously to devise the best plan possible to obtain the book. By best plan, I mean cheapest plan. If you're curious though, email me and I'll give you the title. And you can call me a wimp, because I deserve it now.

I skipped my morning class today, to stay home and do an assignment that I thought was due today. It's due next Friday. Despite this, my teacher took it in anyways, because she was genuinely curious about what my collective thought was (ie: ranting and raving graded on a "checkmark" or "checkmark-minus" basis) about.

I actually saw in the news yesterday that the Mason band (Hobbema) is thinking about passing a law allowing them to banish gang members, substance abusers, and other violent offenders from their reserve for indeterminable amounts of time. So I ranted on that, but honestly, I'm not sure still what to make of it.

One interesting thing that I've been thinking about though, in regards to native gangs specifically, is the idea of a loss of self. For example, you have an Aboriginal student who is in an institutional setting and not learning anything about his or her culture, (heritage, policy, etc.), and then is hardpressed to make the things that they learn at home necessarily relevant to themselves. There is a generational gap between the Aboriginal as a completely assimilated minority, and the Aboriginal dealing with the lifelong struggle to cope with the damage suffered at residential schools or missions. Thus there is this grey zone where it is too hard to step backwards and become familiarized with history and culture, and too foreboding to step foreward into the realm of assimilated population. It's a very daunting position to be in.

Returning to my original statement on native gangs however...throw this identity crisis in with the combination of third world conditions on a lot of reserves (third world infant mortality rates, and death rates, for instance), a hornet's nest of policy to abide by to get anything done or achieved for a band, abject poverty, shortage of housing, a traumatized history, and the press to assimilate, it is not surprising that the statistics for gang members are rising. It is not even a problem unique to Aboriginals alone.

In short, the more I think about it, the more I think that Mel Buffalo and Co. may be headed in the wrong direction with banishing the "ne're do wells", because it is like creating a rift within a rift. In schools, studies have shown that for an Aboriginal student, half of the dilemna of learning in a euro-centric institution stems from alienation. Buffalo will essentially be alienating members of his own band, as well as members from other bands who live on Hobbema and putting them out into the cold.

This gets touchy from here on out. Feel free to complain if I get offensive. Does Mr. Buffalo honestly think that by banishing misbehaving people from the band, he will be helping them? There is no denying that the situation of violence especially in Hobbema is quite critical, but this strikes me as a drastic move in the wrong direction. Why not instead focus on the roots of the problems in the community and work from there to dispell violence and gang participation? Bring people from the outside in to help, rather than turfing out community members. And I dislike how we are all so ready to just sit back and watch this happen, as we've watched the crisis in Hobbema escalate over the years, rather than jumping in and offering to help. I think that the police have been of great assistance to Hobbema, but I certainly have not seen the government step in and offer any assistance.

When there was an Aboriginal community down east a few years ago that had a critical situation regarding gas huffing, people pulled together, the government pulled together, and the problem was somewhat effectually addressed. I won't say very, because I don't think the government has been "very" anything to Aboriginal peoples, except terrible. Anyways, I see Hobbema as needing assistance in a form that the rest of Alberta and Canada are quite capable of giving, whether it be extra social workers, more social programs, more law enforcement, or simply, more funds for the band to put towards this. Do you know how hard it is for a band to wrangle any kind of funds or assistance from the government? Holy crap. The more I read of Government Aboriginal policy, the more I am simply agog at the hurdles present in them. And some of this is evident already, in housing shortages, and well shortages.

Returning to that Third World thing: There were two reserves (one in northern Ontario), and one in Quebec who "recently" came into the news as having E. Coli in their water supply. The Quebec reserve was the newsmaker. However, both of these reserves when spoken to, stated that the E. Coli had been in the water for two or more years prior to the media attention, and that simply no one had paid attention at the time.

Rant rant rant!

[1] Government brand Canadian Whiskey

"It's easier to have your mind to yourself once your friends have passed on." -Dan

2006-01-24T14:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever sat down and tried to blog, and not had anything resembling a sentence enter your head? Blogging truly is the demise of the writer. Too much reliance on impromptu genius, and no planning! In fact, everyone is now a writer. It doesn't matter if we have blogs to chronicle bowel movents (for our own purposes hopefully, but this is questionable if it were in blog form) or to talk about our "vacation-to-Disney
-Swampland-that-was-so-much-better-than-anyone-else's-because-I-blogged-it" [1]. No, I don't have links-- that is not the point.

Admittedly though, in a time where it isn't hard to be clever because everyone's life is easily tragic in it's own little electronic progressive way, it is a little more disparaging to think to oneself "I am going to write a great piece of literature that will stand out enough that someone might publish it."

When I was younger, I had two types of things that I would write. Epically long action adventure, or somewhat contemporary philosophic stories. The epically long action adventures were like chocolate, and the (trust me btw, the made-up name of that genre sounds way cooler then what I actually wrote was) other one was a manifestation of something I felt would be meaningful--that would stick out and be meaningful to someone else. All the things I ever read that actually grabbed me, were things that I connected with, and I had a sharp retention of how authors achieved that, and that this (in my mind) must be what sells a novel.

So....in all this rambling diatribe, you can see that I am perhaps blocking myself from working any further on what I've begun with "Maiden of the Counter" because I'm hideously intimidated by the world. Plus, being cynical enough and lazy enough that it might not be worth the effort to finish it, oftentimes becomes a niggling thought.

But I'll still try! [2]

I've discovered that I have an arch nemesis in my EDPS 474 class. He was in one of my classes last year, though I don't recall which one. EDPS 310? In anycase, I've just made myself into google-bait, but lightening doesn't strike twice on the same blog, does it?

This dude, let's call him "Dood", just exacerbates me a little bit. I would say "to no end", but really, he's just making an ass of himself. Everytime I say something in the class, he's gotta follow it up with something attempting to either derail me (has not worked yet), or make me look like a jerk (possibly worked yesterday when I was in "super keener mode" on the subject of our collective thoughts only being one page). In anycase, it is actually kind of fun, because he seems like a guy who is arrogant because he thinks he's better than anyone else, and I look forward to bugging the hell out of him by proving him wrong. Constantly. Or maybe I'll invite him to be in a study group. In either case, it works out well if I aggravate him instead of him aggravating me.

In other news, I got a letter from the school I attempted my practicum at yesterday, and holy hellfire. It's quite scathing, and some of it rightfully so, but I feel pretty slandered by it. The feelings afflicting me after reading it were akin to a Suplex combo [3] , but really, I've accepted that I screwed up. Granted, I didn't need to be reminded of it in such a scathing manner, but she (my mentor) is entitled to her rage. Afterall, I didn't even send a thankyou note. Seriously, it is still bothering me, and I feel like a monster. However, it has also solidified my resolve to go back and kick some supreme ass in the next one. For the present, my only concern is to settle the matter of whether this letter is previewed by my next mentor or kept on record, because by all legal allowances, it shouldn't be allowed to do so. My withdrawal was a debacle, I admit, but I withdrew before the deadline nonetheless.

Interestingly though, the letter mentions some things I did that I was not even aware of doing, and to me, these incidences seemed a little blown out of proportion. That said, there is no denying that I was underprepared for what was required of me professionally at a time where I had the conception that my practicum was more about learning about schools than actually doing. This sounds idiotic because it was "practical experience", but at the same time, the whole concept of me "learning how to be a teacher via experiencing the environment for the first time EVER" seemed to have gotten massively lost or translated into, "be amazing on your first try, and don't make any mistakes. Don't say anything wrong either, or else your mentor teacher will quote them poorly in a wrathful letter. Especially if her mom dies, or you drop the ball on a thankyou letter."

As you can tell, I'm trying desperately not to dislike her (even if I'm still being a jerk), because I respect her a lot and she taught me a lot. I do feel stabbed though--In the back by the mime-knife of professional relationships gone sour.

[1] Uuuh...no offense.By the way, this is a pic from "Chestnut's Ice Lolly", part of the Ottawa animation Fest show that Joel, Will and I went to. He's stuck in a box advertising chestnuts that has a padlock on it.

[2]This is where y'all clap and shed a tear and bless me for being "so darn courageous!"

[3] A frightening wrestling move that John taught me.

I hope this explains things

2006-01-19T23:23:00.000-07:00

I originally thought to start this post with a joke about periods, but given my readership, I decided against it. Lucky you!

I had a good day today. It was somewhat productive. There's this thing about my art history 256 course that is irritating me though, in that my prof just has this penchant to not make sense whatsoever. And it's not that I'm not understanding her because of my lack of knowlege, but rather like she gets so caught up in her own jargon that it messes her up and she does these verbiose little circles, like a dog chasing its tail. And it's funny the duality she has in speaking because when something doesn't go as planned, she's just all "normal joe-shmoe" with her language and the colloquialisms come out, but when she's lecturing...she even has a different tone of voice. I understand the lines of professionalism and professional appearances, but it wouldn't kill her to loosen up, not in that setting. And there's this whole unnecessary "I'm smarter than you, so...nyah nyah nyah" thing that has become evident.

In a way, there is less pressure on a prof to be professional-appearing in a university setting, as opposed to being in a public elementry/middle/high school. I say, take advantage of it. By now, we've learned that everyone makes mistakes, and that doesn't mean we're going to automatically disrespect her for doing so, or for injecting a little much-needed humor into talking about Rothko canvases. Like, holy crap.

On a humorous note...we're still seeing lots more pictures of people than art. We spent five minutes listening to her talk about how much she enjoyed the composition of a picture of Ad Reinhardt and his family. And then, we had to blitz right on through every other art slide as a result.

I just realized I have a "collective thought" due tomorrow. I'm stalling. I've actually been stalling all day in a way, because I knew there was something I was supposed to be doing, and wasn't, even though I didn't know what it was. And I still endeavoured to do everything but, even though I didn't know what I was supposed to do, until now. I went swimming (12 laps! Who's a marathon champion! I am!) and baked myself and my mp3 player in the sauna for a bit, only returning to a cold bath. Certain times of the day, we get lukewarm water, at best, through our tub faucet. It's annoying.

dead spider

2006-01-19T00:43:00.000-07:00

Sir Breathy the toilet, is broken.

2006-01-17T20:35:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'll come clean. I think I may have provided the catalyst for our clogged toilet. With paper towel. And I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!

But enough amnesty... I had a bizarre moment yesterday in my art history 256 class where I realized something sort of contradictory had occurred in my head and caused a short circuit.

I have no written proof, but it is rumoured on the nerd-vine that Jackson Pollock produced some fractals in his time. Now, given that Pollock was one of the biggest forerunners of the Abstract expressionism movement, it was striking me as odd.

But first, some review: Abstract expressionism, is (and this is a really shitty general summary because it's more than this) a basic abandonment of figurative qualities in art, and a signifier (*cough* this is somewhat heresay) of the slow death art is undergoing. When I say figurative qualities, I mean that abstract expressionism is a rejection of naturalism, which uses figures from nature which would refer to fractal also. Not only that, but you could almost argue that a fractal is like 'square one' of the building blocks in the natural world.

I've fully accepted though too, that I could just be making an immense ass out of myself with all this, because if you asked me about the math behind a fractal at this point, I'd still be at a loss for words somewhat.

Finally however, there is the question of how Abstract Expressionism is interpreted by the viewer. There are six possible "voices" one can take upon themselves when considering these works.

storytelling: Try and think of the story this painting is offering us (the story that you think the painting holds)

searching for figuration: This is basically what it depicts, except it is still pretty subjective, as what I might consider to be a figure (that is, from the natural realm) may not appear as a figure to someone else. In the case of Pollock, you have the license to invent your own "Magic-Eye."

feeling the spiritual: Let the painting stick it's fingers into the pants of your soul, and then tell people how that made you feel. Subjective. Actually seriously, Kandinsky used to propose that the point of abstract expressionism to the reader was to help them overcome a particular habit of mind.

responding to effects: Overcoming the habits of your mind in regards to storytelling, searching for figuration, and feeling the spiritual in a work of art, and actually looking at formal characteristics and effects of the painting (eg: how painterly is the work?). This is actually the primary mode of looking at Abstract Expressionism.

uncovering meanings: This supposes that the paintings hold meaning to begin with, and endorses the idea that there is a process of social interpretation going on (social/political events) in the time of the artist's conception and production of the work.

playing with texts: This...as far as I can understand it, has something to do with interpreting a piece of art in relation to a canon. Seems strange, and not very straightforward.

All in all....I guess I'm wondering which mode of interpretation that whoever decided Pollocok was painting fractals, was using. Because they are incredibly subjective for the most part. Or, if they were even using one of these modes of discourse.

Lets cut shit up

2006-01-17T01:15:00.000-07:00

One last imperative plea....

Does anyone ANYONE out there have a pair of skates? Because I want to go skating on the City Hall ice, and I am bereft of anyone desiring to go with me. I'll go by myself, I'm sure, but it'd be cool if I had someone to go with. My aunt refuses to go there with me, she only wants to go to Victoria park (their ice is inferior to the glossy sheen of the smooth ice in the City Hall rink) and see speed skaters (men) in their speedos. And frankly, my life is already traumatizing enough prior to that. Not all speed skaters are lean mean ice slicin' machines, you know? Think rosy plump baboon butts.[1]

[1] Yeah...butts to that.

I surrender my ill will to your roses and other sparkly stupid shit.

2006-01-17T00:48:00.000-07:00

Ok....so I was a bit of a negative nancy yesterday. I apologise. It is amazing how much my mood is dependant on sleep, or the lackthereof--or rather, if I get harried, I'm more likely to be grouchy.

I skulked through the YMCA today looking for allegedly free fitness programs. It turns out I can go do Sargeant Ab's program for nine bucks a session, but I see no free buns of steel coming out of that. Plus, the next registration [1] isn't until March. I did find a place to unload all these bags of things I don't need or want any longer though, which is nice. I'm on this "become minimal somehow, even if it takes a miracle" kick. So I keep turfing stuff. It would probably be more effective though, if I had someone else come over here and throw it out for me, because I'm too....girlishly attached to things. It's my biggest weakness to memorialize some story or minor event with a piece of junk, and I need to curb that. And my scrap paper collection. And...holy shit... how much longer do I keep these NG's until they're worth a fortune? Want a mission? Get me the best price possible on a collection of NG's dating from 1958-2004. The idea is that I want to become more mobile. Because if I do this, I might actually get the hell out of here one day if I'm lucky. I'm worried about getting stuck in Edmonton.

I like the city, but at the same time, it grates on me sometimes. However, this said, for the stage of my life that I'm at right now (the logistics of me attending school aside), the city is the best place to be. Giving me a good kick in the growing process, one mind-blowing experience after another. Turning my "palpable innocence" into a dark olive green color before I'm unleashed on the world.

Whoa. I'm blowing my own mind.

I haven't actually had a great amount of things to blog about lately. The whole act, is really starting to get old. Geez, it only took four years.

[1] This is a bamboo viper (Trimeresurus Albolabris). They're lovely.

I hope you are have a cruddy time.

2006-01-15T23:16:00.000-07:00

You know...I'm starting to wonder if I just wonder too much, and do too little. It dawned on me today that I've pretty much almost lost the ability to stand up and defend myself, and I don't know how that happened, or whether this is a consistent thing or whether I'm just always too tired. This has been frustrating me a little bit lately- the fear of being a coward, even though by all means, I probably am a coward anyways.

Writing plans....I am going to be writing lots of writing plans soon. I'm excited to get started. The idea of a routine/self imposed alone time to do it, is still really appealing.

It's been a busy weekend. And way too short.

The whole pool thing was sort of a bomb, which I feel badly about. I had not predicted that levels of suck would be that high, and that the temperature was in fact, that low. I thought it was just me I guess, who thought it was cold in there. Throw in an age gap occurring in the group of 15-21 years, and no sleep on behalf of the loverly hostess, and voila-- it stank horrifically.

I think the thing that bothered me the most, is that I don't like being responsible for kids that are family members. There is no escaping the bawdy-wheel-o-gossip-and-condemnation, especially, in the last ten minutes of your "visit" when a ten year old runs off down the stairs because he's terrified of technology, and has a full-on scream-o panic attack in the parkade. You don't bring the kid to his parents who are looking at you like you've just shot heroin, dropped a speedball, and then lectured on evolution with them, but the security guard does, right when you say, "you know...I wonder if he got lost?"

So maybe I don't like being responsible for other people's kids, period. This doesn't mean I don't like kids, but I DO like hanging around kids that are ultimately being fed, clothed, and roofed, by other people, so I can just sit back and appreciate their personalities and how much fun they are. And it has nothing to do with me not wanting kids in the future or anything, it has to do with, "your kids are so fucked up, and here I am, pretending like they're not fucked up, and accomodating the mistakes you have made with them, that reflect themselves in the behavior of your children, that I cannot change or ease, because I don't have enough time."

I'm pretty sure that it's thoughts like those that make me a bad person. And slightly neurotic/and/or retarded. I don't know. By the age of nine, I had a lot of independence, so I guess the bottom line is that I'm genuinely dumbstruck when I see kids that are not like that. See? Terrible.

They say now, that if you let your kids leave the yard and get scrapes on their knees or dirt in their fingernails, that they'll probably get tetanus, or ground worms...or worse...rabies.[1]

I feel devoid of things to say. I had a good idea for an opinion article though, shockingly. However, it is viva l'election right now, so it would not even be worth pursuing.

[1] Sarcasm-- endo!

makeshift as we are

2006-01-12T00:08:00.000-07:00

So....how's it going? Seriously?

Points of interest:

*I have WAY too much time on my hands this semester. Call me for coffee as often as you want.

*I'm cracking down on the writing. I'm going to try and take up some of aforementioned buttloads of time by scheduling in writing hours here. Alone. At my desk.

*I've decided that in some of my classes I'm afflicted with what's called, "I'm-so-smart-I'm-dumb-and-hella-dissappointed." Not only that, but I don't get to write a fucking term paper for the whole semester. I'm choked.

*Adam's "clan" is inescapable. In my house. In my hometown. In my fucking Art History 256 class. LOL. It's more funny than anything I'm truly sore at.

*John isn't coming up for reading week, but later. Le pathetic sigh...

*The pool is cold, and ready for my warm touch to ...put my key in the door! I have a key! It also turns out that in the summer/spring months, there is a balcony they unlock up there also. The potential for vertigo barbeques is dizzying. Ho ho ho.

*Did I mention that I'm only taking three classes? Holy shit! I've never had it this easy in my life.

The end.

baby eat that chicken slow...

2006-01-06T01:36:00.000-07:00

Nothing says bliss like having a twelve pound cat purring in your arms while you stand half a foot away from a TV and watch four hours of Gordon Downie getting off on stage, behind the scenes, making artistic farting noises, and other revealing things. I need to own "Hipeponymous". It doesn't seem just or fair or right in any way shape or form, no matter how I write it, think it, that my dad owns this and I do not.

I am Jack's burning envy and jealous green monster.

I am not a fan compelled to keep Mr. Downie's sweat in a vial around her neck, but rather one who would be quietly terrified to meet him in person, who would think of the perfect thing to say to him only after he'd left the room.

Holy fuck.

Everyone and their cat and goldfish needs to own this. Probably everyone does, except me.

This has been a rare superficial moment served up McDonald's style in a way that will surely kill you, but tastes like your momma's hot chocolate, by Emerson Emergency.

Enjoy.

2006-01-04T00:15:00.000-07:00

Bring it in
Bring in that fucking new year
Bring my smile back
Staunch this year of perpetual flooding.
Bring back my laughter
Banish my quiet inability
Your lame attempts
To laugh.

Bring it in,
Bring in that fucking new year
Because I’m sure as hell
Tired of the old one
This year
Was a write off
Banish those thoughts
Of dying loved ones
Dead grandparents
I know this year was your year
But next year
Next year won’t be
Next year won’t be spent healing wounds
Not like this year with your cutting departure

Bring it in,
Bring in that fucking new year
Come on, bring it like you mean it
Let’s start it off sober
And try and keep it that way
Let’s start it clean off drugs
You and me both baby
And try and keep it that way
Bring in that new year
So I can be a new person
Rather,
Old stanky,
Getting in touch with myself again
Something so long past it seems
That it will once more be new
So shocking,
Back to the fresh air I know
I can be.

Bring it in,
Bring in that fucking long over due
Do-over,
Re-do
Un-do
I need a new spring
To rinse me of my failures
Of my shortcomings
For this one has been a 365 day fight
To keep treading water
To keep from sinking
To avoid shitty metaphors for failure
Loud and clear man,
I've done a shitty job this year.
My days amount to 322
For all the corners I've cut
Things I've fowled
My events of misgivings and mediocrity
Feelings I've hurt
General foul-mouthed attitudes
This time around.

Bring it in,
Bring in that fucking new year
Let our friendships be as strong
As they were last year
But please let us
Have more fun this time around
Not behaving like caged lions
Taking tempermental swats at each other’s behinds
Drawing blood and tears.
Let's suppress giggling hysterical laughter
Not anger
Brooding only at the passage of time
Without one another to draw
Clear thoughts and conversation from.

Bring in that goddamn New Year
That fucking New Year
It’s about time already
For you and I to touch hands
And I know the fresh year bears those tidings
Where our toes will touch under sheets
And your voice will rumble against my neck
Your eyes will no longer be blue pixels
But shining close to mine
No longer thoughts of
“What a photogenic smile”
At last.

Bring in that new year
That fucking late new year
Should have started months ago
When all of this started sliding
Down the other side of the hill
The peak of that slope occurring in April.
It’s been a little overdue I think
This new year,

So bring that fucking fresh start in already,
Ready for guaranteed corruption
Perhaps not as stink-filled as the last
Afterall I like to think
I learn from my mistakes.
But for now,
I’m tired of dwelling.

a year of heavy thought

2006-01-04T00:03:00.000-07:00

A year in review is something I’ve always been sort of leery of writing, but I figure that this year of years is only better worked through, if expounded upon, and then left in the past, with only the things I have learned from it to follow me to twenty-o-six.

However, there have been a lot of things that have occurred this year that have admittedly been more grievous than good, but for the sake of the reader and myself, I have not forgotten that there have been many fortunate things that have happened to me also.

Probably the most difficult aspect for me occurred in April when my grandmother passed away. It was something our family had foreseen in the December preceding, but it is always hard to say goodbye to those we love, and even harder to watch them go in the agony that cancer is. And of course, there is always the aftermath of these deaths that take away a matriarch that proves to be difficult.
I learned that a need for material wealth in some runs far deeper than initially thought, and that events like these often have the effect of making one impervious to material things (though, there is also the interesting instance of clinging to things desperately out of nostalgia, which is a tough one to fathom sometimes).
Amongst other things, my extended family throughout all this, has reached an interesting and somewhat strained (but long overdue) understanding of each other. And, oddly enough, out of this understanding, we have somehow become acclimatized to the oddities that make our family what it is, as opposed to our old and comfortable facetious pretensions. It’s kind of nice I think, but still fraught with peril somehow—but even that lessens day by day.

This year for me, has also been a year of intense self-reflection, and admittedly, a fair amount of introvertedness that I am not necessarily used to. I feel like I have been around all my friends and family more than usual this year, and yet, I haven’t really been there in a lot of ways, because I’ve been too wrapped up in myself and trying to work through things I must remedy about myself, like how I think about things, events, and other people. In my mind, so much has happened in my life, and I have spent this year playing catch-up with myself.

In saying this, 2005 has been all about the private vacations. I visited my brother in BC in May, shortly after my finals and hid out there for a week or so and enjoyed the company of my brother and his fiancée. Later in September, I returned for their wedding which was a wonderfully small affair consisting of several barbeques and a really cool quad.

Another wedding occurred this summer also. An old friend of mine got married in August, and asked me to be her maid of honor (acronym MOH- Mistress of Horrorshow!). Remind me never to do that again. I learned this summer, that the most serious mistakes that we make in our lives that cause us to be unhappy later in life, are the ones that we make at this age, that we do not place enough consequence into. I think she will be happy…in another life. As it is now though, the only thing that will make her happy is to become a statistic of discontentment.

I learned that being a maid of honor is something only to be done once in a lifetime. Especially if you are single. It is a rollercoaster of torment best remedied only by a quick mickey of spiced rum on the steps of a church. Cry, shmooze, booze, and holy shit, I will never do that again.

But now, now onto the cool things… I “joined” the Raving Poets this year, and finally found an excellent outlet for poetry that would have otherwise collected dust or spammers. It is hard to put my finger on what I like the most about it, but I do enjoy an enthralled audience, admittedly. If I step down, and I have made at least one person laugh, I feel awesome. I only regret that there weren’t more of them, because I’m finding that this year has been a most [1] prolific one for poetry. Some of it good, and some of it undeniably crap.

Interestingly enough, this has also been a very lean year for me artistically. I have not done very amazing things in art land, and it kind of bums me out, but at the same time, I am relieved I didn’t have to force too much of what I did do. And the stuff that I did do this year, I’m incredibly impressed with. Except for one painting for a project, lol—it’s an abomination.

On the same note of creative endeavors, I also got to help film a movie this year, which was an incredible amount of fun. I really enjoyed it a lot, and I’m hoping to do more in the future with Will or Joel, or maybe do some on my own. I’ve also been attempting more photography this year, although my financial constraints and some dud rolls have not been overly conducive to being consistent in my efforts.
This year, I also got kicked into independence of sorts, when I moved into my first place, with fellow roommate and close friend Adam.[2] It’s actually been a lot of fun to live with him, despite our occasional difference. It’s been neat (and no doubt slightly annoying to him) to have such a good friend just down the hall, bad morning person vs. bad morning person and all…

My building has proven to be a great place to live, though I realize the opinions differ in that regard. I really enjoy it, though living quarters are tight, as I’ve gotten to know quite a lot of the residents somewhat well, after taking a job in the convenience store downstairs. I’m also going to be getting a pool key this week, which is exciting, because finally our pool is commission after its long fraudulent advertisement. So, if any of y’all want to come over for a swim, you’re more than welcome.

One of the biggest highlights of my year was finding out that the world does have one other eccentric being out there in store for me. Meeting John was completely unexpected, but as it stands now, I couldn’t imagine not knowing him. I have never had the privilege of saying that talking to someone on the phone every day for at least an hour never gets boring. There is talk of a reading week visit coming up, which is awesome.

So admittedly, there is one more crappy thing that occurred in December to me in regards to school, but I think that I have survived the emotional impasse I was at regarding…well, a complete lack of confidence in my abilities (hence private vacation number three of the year at my parents house). I think that I still have quite a bit to learn, but for trying my next practicum, I have renewing confidence that I will do quite well at it, because I have a lot of learned experiences to walk into it with now, however unfavourable the circumstances that I learned them in were.

The biggest thing that I’ve realized right now, is that in the wake of the old year, I just have to start afresh with the new. Never before has this occasion actually been as important to me as it is right now. So, I’m wiping the slate clean, as responsibly as I can, and I realize that I have to buckle down and be a better person this year. Do some growing up, and whatnot. Have some fun and whatnot. Be responsible, and do things right the first time.[3]

[1] Man, I’m watching stupid “Brother’s Grimm” right now, so I feel like my diction is just a little esoteric through the whole of this work. I apologise, especially if your eyes are falling out of your head right now.

[2] I have also decided to grow up and join the real world with my use (or rather, disuse) of first names, instead of pseudonyms. If this bothers anyone, be sure to let me know.

[2] I’ve never been good at this way of doing things, but I’ll try. ; ).

Just a little slice of Home Town.

2005-12-29T00:53:00.000-07:00

Why Lord, why?

Everytime I come home, and I walk into my actual hometown, I want to do one of three things: Drink like there's no tomorrow, start a fight, or get fucked in an inappropriate place.

One down, two to go. I'll leave the rest of that to your imagination (well, everyone's imagination except for Napoleon's I suppose, because he knows the truth).

I hate how hometown apathy is so contagious, although it's hard for it not to be, because something melodramatic is happening at every turn, and one gets desensitized to it all after about eighteen years of it.

The latest? Apparently, by drinking the tapwater of said town, you will most definately become pregnant, or impregnate some girl who is bound to be at least seven to ten years your junior. It's trendy here in trendsville! Not only that, but it is the coolest thing ever to listen to Nickelback, be on unemployment at 21, or, have a crown made from a popcorn bag that your drunken boyfriend made you while you "watched" Narnia. That event in itself, will be talked about for weeks, I'm sure.

I hate my town. I hate it here. I want to go home. Or drink my face off-- One of the two

One of my highschool buddies (read: the conquest that ne'er was) now wants to sleep with me. Correction, have wild relationship destroying sex with me in the back of a Fiero on ...I dunno, "Makeout Point" or something.

I'm having a problem here, only in the department of convincing him that "hey, you are so not hot shit anymore-- I mean, look at you! Look at me! It just won't work."

I'm such an ass, but the overwhelming power of monogamy compells me so. Not to mention, the guy is a total rat bastard in search of an "easy" way out of the stalk-ish relationship/hold his girlfriend now has on him. I mean, it bears mentioning, but it doesn't, because I would never cheat on anyone, especially not Napoleon.

It's interesting though, because it's just been an extra brick on the wall of my not-so-easily-freed-from depression. Oh, just sock it to me baby, I can take it! Man, if I have a few more Smirnoff Ice (tennis court beverage!) I can take on the world.

I need to be brought back to reality. This would dictate me being on the edge of a precipice or something. Which one? I don't know.

Tales from the store

2005-12-19T03:13:00.000-07:00

Hustler's Slutty Spanish Girls

There is a man (a real strange man!) who comes into the store occasionally, when he is not strutting about or phoning down to the store to "reserve" what he wants. His name is "Wayne". Now, I don't usually go with first impressions of people as a basis for anything, but he gives me a "vibe", and by "vibe" I don't mean mid-shift bent-over-the-counter orgasm, but a weird feeling that sits in my stomach and is uncomfortable.

Imagine my surprise when my discomfort is compounded by Wayne coming into the store, and taking an awfully long time around the video rack. Finally he guiltily walks up to the counter and plops "Hustler's Slutty Spanish Girls" on top of my old Gender Issues journal. What a conundrum.

Now, I don't care about porn. I really don't give a shit if you want to watch it, beat off to it, frame it, or use it in hampster cages. I only laugh when other guys come into the store and look yearningly at the Penthouse issues and then see me behind the counter and freak out, and leave with only a chocolate bar. It doesn't bother me.

The thing that irks me about Wayne and porn is that he fucking rents it under "Sue's" name. "Sue" is this really sweet old lady who comes down every Sunday and buys a coffee and talks to me. She's this absolutely tiny frail old woman (late seventies), who is very kind, and just...sort of feeble too, and sort of an eccentric shut-in. And he puts her apartment number down, her phone number, the works. I mean, at least he's paying for his own porn, but if that shit was ever late and someone phoned her and was like, "we'd like you to return Hot Asians as soon as possible please" the poor girl would have a heart attack.
I guess it also bothers me, because after seeing him do something like that, when he could easily rent pornos somewhere else (and, for that matter, watch them somewhere else, rather than at her place after she goes to bed, as I suspect he does), I wonder how he fits into her life. I don't know, or presume to know, but he seems like a random inclusion to a very vulnerable person's life, and I guess that makes me suspicious. And he's so ....shifty. Bad vibes tantamount!

Old Gray Mare Just Ain't what?

There is a guy (a wheezy guy!) who comes into the store occasionally. His name is "Clarice", and he is one of the more famous residents because of his tendency to "roll-hobble" his way home after spending all day drinking. And he's always quite up front about it-- that he is drunk for about 85% of most days.

Between the two of us, we have a running joke that I know he's University Alumni and has been a guest speaker several times (because he's told me), but he refuses to tell me for what faculty or subject this has been in collaboration with. And, given that he is so mischieviously ambiguous about it because he knows that he gets a rise out of me by consterning me ("confuddled academic"), it is a constant source of banter. Doesn't matter his state of sobriety though-- that whenever I have a book, he always enquires as to what it is, so that's a clue, I suppose.

Anyways, sometimes he's really grumpy, and doesn't like to stall, so our banter is brief, but today, he was quite merry and talkative (although, elusive as usual, despite his brand new U of A alumni sweater) and I do think I will get an answer to my question next time he's around. But he was SO drunk today, poor dude. The potatoes in the bin almost bested him several times (mystery academic, fallen in the potatoes), and we ended up bitching about "where are these potatoes from anyways? Ireland?" Ho ho ho.

Somewhere, there was a point to this one, but it's lost now.

Hustler's Spanish Sluts part deux

There is this lady (a bitchy lady!) who comes into the store occasionally. She's a really ornery awful lady that comes in constantly whom I dislike intensely as my experiences with her grow like a malignant tumor in quantity on an innocent body. That almost says it all, but wait! There's more!
Her poor husband just constantly follows behind her. She just totally owns him, every square sallow inch. At least he acts that way. He's so beaten and crushed, it's really awful to see. And she's just "on" him, constantly, nagging.
I think that's what it is about her that I don't like. She's a huge bully, and I can see that in how she addresses him, and how she addresses me, and it drives me nuts. They always buy lemons and clamato juice, and one day, I'm going to squeeze those things into her eyes with vodka and tabasco juice. And if we carried rimmer salt...you betcha.

And today, I got the vibe that perhaps she realizes that I don't like her. Out of all my customers I am the most cool and detached and speechless with her only. I'll talk up a storm with someone in the checkout line before her, but I just run her stuff through and glare holes into her back when she's not looking.

Today, I was giving away free truffles, and there were two left on the plate when she came in with her slave man. I considered stuffing them both into my mouth in front of her, but decided that would be gross, and I would be sick. I asked her if she wanted one after I was done ringing through the stuff and they'd paid, and she said no. I looked at her husband and asked him, and he seemed shocked that I'd asked him, and was about to say something when she cut in and said, "No! I already said no. God."

Glare glare GLARE. Checkmate-- my scowl radiates further than yours.

As a sidenote: The two Rays have not come into the store since last week. I'm kind of choked. They're total sweethearts, even if they're two drunkards who just share the same name. They're like my protectorate peas in a pod. Big Ray and Little Ray. Big Ray is a flirt though, lol.

Somehow working at the store has taken on a life of its own. I'm not sure if it's healthy even how much I just look forward to going to work because I know strange things will happen. I'm constantly immersed in all the foreign things that happen in the mundane everyday events in regards to the underbelly of a city (such as the prostitute and her pimp who had a minor blow-out in the store today over a debit card malfunction), and I'm ...I don't even know how to say it without sounding retarded, but ...I'm enjoying the experience, and I'm enjoying just taking it all in, and doing something that is so immediately gratifying, and still being able to take away all these amazing stories from it.

YES.

2005-12-18T23:19:00.000-07:00

O-Ren Ishii (Cottonmouth)

You're O-Ren Ishii! Twisted and homicidal, you respect most people, but let them know not to mess with you. You have a talent for sensing danger, and keep only the most loyal and skilled people around you.
Kill Bill: Which Deadly Viper Assassin Are You? (Vol. II spoilers... results with pics)

A few things of note.

2005-12-15T22:28:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading three things that I will give you running *something* on.

Dead Babies by Martin Amis

Holy fuck is my head hurting, and do I feel like gouging out my eyes. I thought (read: ok, maybe reveled in a little) I'd read some pretty fucked up shit in my time, but I was so remorsefully wrong. The whole time that my mind was being sandblasted with small pills spewing forth from the pages at lightening speed, I kept wondering if I dare read another one of his books for comparison. At this point, I have no other books of his, but could possibly pilfer another, but am also slightly fearful of subjecting myself to the mindfuck of it all.

In a nutshell, there is taking a lovely british summer holiday in the sun and with free young spirits, and THEN there is taking a lovely british summer holiday in the sun with free young spirits on drugs who fuck anything that moves, and where sobriety is only a necessary evil, like taking a dump or cleaning out the coffee filter. Throw in a good handful of psychosis for each party, and motion-sickness inducing pace of writing, and you're left where I'm at now, huddling on my couch and feeling slightly violated.

Maus I and II by Art Spiegelman

Strangely enough, it was a refreshing transition from Amis to read a comic about the Holocaust. I'd been meaning to read the two books for a while, but hadn't had the time until today. They're really well done graphic novels. I've read a lot of literature about the Holocaust before these, but these touched me profoundly, because they were so personally written and related (true) from the author's father's experience of surviving World War II as a Jewish person with his wife. Not only this, but there are things occurring after the war included that give the full extent of "fallout" that even those who survived would endure for the rest of their lives.

For me, the most jarring part of the novels was seeing the diagrams of the crematoriums or the showers, as relayed by Art Spiegelman's father, and hearing about the many daunting things that he experienced or saw firsthand around those. Chilling also was the inevitable thing that happens towards the concept of "death" in a time of crisis (that is to say that the death of another becomes insignificant, except to be something to avoid for yourself in the pursuit of survival).

Last but not least, Fenton and I watched "City of God", to cap off the day, stretched out on the blue bed of doom watching turqoise subtitles (how vibrant and hard to read!). This one is still sinking in I think, but I'm very glad that someone recommended it to me, because it's an outstanding movie. It sure gives you a different outlook on how "organized" crime works though, granted things work differently in different places I suppose. But yeah, maybe more on that later. I couldn't stop thinking about Tookie Williams while I was watching it. The featured link is...interesting. Mind that flashy scrolling banner of death!

To those not in the know, I am now free like wildabeast until January. I have no fucking clue how to while away the time.

Avast ye!

2005-12-15T00:13:00.000-07:00

My pirate name is:

Bloody Bess Rackham

Every pirate lives for something different. For some, it's the open sea. For others (the masochists), it's the food. For you, it's definitely the fighting. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

I think I'm better now. But sort of physically ill as a surprising turn of events.

Long distance drunk

2005-12-12T22:49:00.000-07:00

Is it a problem that one might feel more alive and in tune/connected with the world when they are lacking in sleep, and incredibly detached/apathetic when they are not?

So I've had all these experiences in my life that SHOULD make me a fantastic person at this precise moment, and somehow I feel like a hoodlum right now that everyone is doubting the capabilities of and second guessing, throwing second glances at and wrinkling noses in disappointment. Or maybe it's just me thinking that I myself am a hoodlum, when I really should be a fantastic person. After all, this was the purpose behind me living the life that I have lived, right? Whether I was aware of it or not at the time, I am definitely aware of what I am lacking right now. But to pinpoint those things that have possibly once been there and are now eroded into round dull leads ineffectual for a good drawing, is hard to do right now.

Fenton called this an introspective "fatalistic something-something." I call it the state of hanging suspended and useless in the gelatin of life, watching everything go by, unable to affect concern through movement.

"I like my neighborhood. I like my gun. Driving my little car, I am your girl and I will protect you."

Lurking melancholia

2005-12-11T01:43:00.000-07:00

In result of withdrawing from my IPT, I've been feeling a lot of things. Initially, I was really lost and confused, but now that I know what I am going to do, I feel better. Actually, I felt pretty darn good until I realized I'd still have to redo the damn thing to do what I wanted to do. But, I had this sudden realization that part of the reason I did so poorly at it this time around, was because my mind and my character just wasn't "there".

I think intrinsically right now, that I knew that I wasn't being a "good" enough person to waltz in there and start teaching kids. I have been known to associate with the odd hallucinogenic, I have been drinking a lot lately, and etcetera. These stupid things, coupled with my own acknowlegement that they are dumb things to do when you're trying to be an educator, were weighing on my conscience heavily. Adversely, that subliminally dragged me down. I wasn't trying as hard as I should have been, because I was starting to believe I wasn't a good enough person to do this...and it bothers me now that I wasn't trying. For wanting to do this so bad, I wasn't trying hard enough at all, and my heart totally was not there all the way at all. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy being there, it was that I still felt so chewed up from the courseload and expectations of the semester prior to the practicum, and stressed....really stressed. I didn't have much downtime, and my sleeping habits have been terrible. Plus, I didn't honestly think it would be that hard, I think I kind of expected it would come naturally to me. And sometimes it did-- I had a lot of shining moments in my practicum, but I started the whole thing out on a high note of anxiety, and it never really stopped. I had a much shorter leash to begin with to work with than any of my other school ST counterparts. They were at least in their minors, teaching kids who didn't have to do PATs in January, with ONE mentor teacher. I had two. Grade nines who had PATs up-and-coming-fast, and was teaching my major for 80% of the time. And I wasn't dealing. I dreaded getting up there. I hated the material, had no leniency with the material (Because of PATS), and was too afraid of forgetting something to just loosen up and be myself.

I do still have to attempt this again. But holy fuck, this year has almost been a complete write-off for me, I think. The good news is that I checked my grades, and I got all Bs, except for Mr. A's fucking assessment class. D-. Ouch.

What have we learned about drug and/or alcohol abuse?

2005-12-11T01:24:00.000-07:00

[1) Getting really drunk on a Thursday always seems like a good idea "at the time," and while the company was good, the idea definately was not. I have never been so hungover in my life.

[2] Anytime is meth/crack/something frightening time. Even at 2:30 pm, when you come into my store and your head is seriously going to rotate off of your shoulders because you are SO sketched out that you are twitching and flailing like a marionette puppet.

[3] There is a drug dealer who circles our block regularly during the day. His clientele hang out in my store, or outside our building. When he parks in front of the old folk's lodge, they fly towards his silver car like moths to lightbulb (that you can smoke crack out of, of course).

[4] His clientele are very "sensitive". Me saying, "ok, then go," is apparently easily construed as "you're a stupid fuck-off, get out of my store afore I calls the po-lice."

[5] Said po-lice are fucking useless. I give you plates, detailed artist description of car, and rough guess of whenabout the "rounds" are, and you tell ME to phone the drug squad, who incidently, gets the weekend off. And obviously you don't sir, because you're telling me that I should just kick them out of my store if they "bug" me so much-- to "call us if you have an incident." AFTER the stabbing/gunshot wound/ violent beating/throwing of candy bars, in other words.

Usually the dudes that come into the store from the Y are a great source of amusement for me when they are doing the crack shuffle from aisle to aisle, and I don't mind dealing with them too much, and they don't generally stir up any trouble. But today, I didn't have the patience for it, and today, I was just a little more susceptible to the paranoia lurking in my mind about how unpredictable some of them can be when they're high. Since my knee is acting up, and I'm really tired, I don't feel like I'm going to be "up to it" if anything bad really were to happen. Plus, I got mouthed off ALOT today, and I hate that, especially when I'm grouchy and tired, because I don't retaliate to it well.

Durp

2005-12-05T17:59:00.000-07:00

Durpage.

Black old sun, black old son, come take away the pain, black old sun won't you come, won't you come

2005-12-04T23:48:00.000-07:00

I'm so exasperated with everything right now. I'm tired of being "target girl", I'm TIRED of being "target girl", I'm tired of being the brunt of things for everyone, and I'm tired of coming home, and I am tired of having this feeling that I should not go home. I will however, endeavor to stay out of my house for as much as possible in the next...until I move out.

I tried to remember yesterday when the last time I'd lived in a place that was consistantly good and healthy to live, and it turns out it was like six years ago. I started wondering if this was me being a poophead and unable to cope or find the positives, but the fact of the matter is that the only reason I've toughed out the last six years, has been because I could do that. I know...poor me, lol, but it's just weird. I've had a very weird day.

At about one o'clock today, the Square started blaring Shania Twain window-shakingly loud on the rink speakers, and since where I live is so high, it was massively distorted and weird. All in preperation for bright nights (I saw some of the fireworks from the store later). I also saw a fluorescant pink ferrari, and have inadvertantly been sticking my foot in my mouth all day, such as calling Fenton's dad an asshole (again, inadvertantly, and I apologised- I like his dad), and saying something along the lines of "being trite, in a humorous way," to a sort of depressed girl in the store.

I am such a superstar.

I have to have a midpoint evaluation to show for tomorrow, as well as be perky and bushytailed. I don't know if I can hack that, but I'll try. I have this immense diatribe about how school's been going in a saved post- I'll get around to finishing it and publishing tomorrow. If I'm still alive<-- see, that sounds ominous, but it's not. I keep having waking nightmares about certain people killing me lately, it's tres strange, and my dreams...well, that's crazy talk. Nevermind.

I'm feeling really angry right now. It's just been this slow burn all day, though I think I've been working up to it for a while. I know this is pretty livejournal, but no one reads this shizzat anymore anyways. But yeah, angry, defeated, and just completely apathetic.

Good news is, I can pay my rent now, and all other debts. Might leave me scrimping a little for the next week or so, but at least I'll have the debt demons out of my hair. Hopefully permanently, if all goes to plan.

I got to hang out with Radpants yesterday, albeit briefly, but it was good to see her. There was talk of a road trip in the summer, which would be fucking cool. Also talk of sentimental vials of sand and cigarette butts in the mail from Singapore. Awww....

Time for a meme? Sorry.

2005-12-01T16:25:00.000-07:00

[] I'm afraid of the quiet. Not at all. Often people or things are not quiet enough.
[x] I am really ticklish.
[x] I'm afraid of the dark. Only sometimes, when I'm by myself. Exclusively limited to the wilderness at night.
[ ] I'm afraid of facing my back to open doors at night.
[ ] I am homosexual.
[x] I believe in true love. I seriously used to be a non-believer. Which, intrinsically, is why I set up people and they end up unhappy and broken up, or unhappy and stuck together with kid or something.
[x] I've ran away from home.
[x] I collect comic books. I have been known to hide comics away. I'll certainly never get rid of them.
[x] I shut others out when I'm sad
[x] I have stayed out all night.
[] I open up to others easily.
[x] I am keeping a secret from the world.
[x] I watch the news.
[x] I own over 5 rap CDs.
[x] I love Disney movies. Yeah...obviously I don't care what you think. I dig 'em. Disney was probably my first "anything art."
[x] I am a sucker for pretty eyes.
[ ] I kill bugs. Hardly ever! Will go out of my way to not kill bugs, except silverfish in the store, because they gross me out. Well, and mosquitos. What an oppressed species eh?
[x] I curse all the time.
[ ] I have (had) "x"s in my screen name.
[x] I've slipped and fell in public. On numerous occasions, involving minor longterm injuries.
[] I've slipped out a "lol" in a real conversation.
[] I love Spam.
[x] I bake well. I love cooking. To me, cooking and cleaning are very meditative things to do. Admittedly, cleaning can be annoying when you're pressed for time though. But since I try and think of cooking as meditative, and I actually enjoy it, generally, I'm pretty good at it.
[] I have worn pajamas to class.
[ ] I own something from Abercrombie.
[x] I have a job.
[x] Talked on a phone for 5 hours. You know it!
[ ] I love Dr. Phil-like Herpes I do...
[x] I like someone. Just a little.
[x] I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS. Only to annoy Fenton.
[x] I am self-conscious. To a certain extent, everyone is, it's why we are like we are. So yeah.
[x] I love to laugh.
[x] I have tried alcohol.
[x] I drink alcohol on a regular basis.
[x] I have tried a cigarette. Ha ha.
[x] I have tried a cigar.
[ ] I have smoked a pack in one day.Never more than half.
[x] I loved Lord of the Flies.
[] I have cough drops when I'm not sick.
[] I can't swallow pills.
[x] I have a few scars. Ha ha...Just a couple...
[x] I've been out of this country. To the USA.
[] I can't sleep if there is a spider in the room.
[X] I love chocolate. DO I!!!?
[] I bite my nails.
[] I am not comfortable with being me.
[] I play computer games when I'm bored. Once in a while, but not too often.
[] gotten lost in the city.
[x] Seen a shooting star.
[] Had a serious injury.
[x] Gone out in public in your pajamas.
[x] Have kissed a stranger. It was in Quebec...it's complicated.
[x] Hugged a stranger
[] Been arrested.
[x] Beverage come out of your nose while laughing
[x] Pushed all the buttons on an elevator.
[x] Made out in an elevator.
[] Swore at your parents.
[] Kicked a guy where it hurts on purpose.
[] Been skydiving.
[] Been bungee jumping.
[x] Gotten stitches. I find stitches unimpressive...ask me about staples!
[] Drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour.
[x] Bitten someone. The only answer I can think of is not my own: "only in a sexy way."
[] Been to Niagara Falls.
[] Gotten the chicken pox twice.
[] Crashed into a car.
[] Have been to Japan.
[x] Ridden in a taxi.
[] Shoplifted.
[] Been fired.
[x] Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back.
[x] Stole something from your job. I rented a movie for "free" once.
[x] Gone on a blind date. Asshole!
[] Had a crush on a teacher/coach.
[] Celebrated Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
[] Been to Europe.
[] Slept with a co-worker.
[x] Been proposed to.
[] Been married.
[] Gotten divorced.
[x] Saw someone/something dying.
[x] Driven over 400 miles in one day. My parents are troopers when it comes to the driving long distances thing.
[x] Been to Canada. Only on occasion....when it's not winter, har har.
[x] Been on a Plane.
[] Regretful tattoo.
[] More than 5 tattoos.
[] Seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
[] Been in a bloody fist fight.
[] Thrown up in a bar.
[x] Eaten sushi.
[x] Been snowboarding.
[x] Been skiing.
[x] Been ice skating.
[x] Cried in public
[] Walked purposely into traffic with your eyes closed.
[x] Liked someone even though you knew you shouldn't have.
[x] Thought of someone almost 24/7
[x] Hated the world.
[] Been in jail.
[] Shot someone.
[x] Got shot. With a bb gun. Mon dieu!
[] Stabbed.