absolutely brilliant poetry.

"B o d y i s t o s p i r i t"
Laurance Wieder

Body is to spirit
As cloth is to body
Grown to its own size:
Room is in the air,
Air is in the weave.
Waves in the breeze.
The earth spins and
Things come to an end.
So, day and night,
A body blooms
At its own hour.
Stretch the pause
Through the sky.
Or float -- muted banner --
Signs, no designs.

Signs, no designs.
Or float -- muted banner --
Through the sky.
Stretch the pause
At its own hour.
A body blooms
So, day and night,
Things come to an end.
The earth spins and
Waves in the breeze.
Air is in the weave.
Room is in the air,
Grown to its own size:
As cloth is to body
Body is to spirit.

if only golden skin was this natural..

I think it's time to remember.

Lets take the song I'm listening to, for instance. Elevator Love Letter by Stars. My most vivid memory with this song would have to be that one time in grade nine, when Brendan Pociuch stopped to chat with Taryn and I. He may have had some other friend with him, and he was carrying an instrument of some sort, but those details have obviously been overlooked. I had Taryn's iPod, and I switched it to this song. For some bizarre reason, as I was listening to the song and watching their mouths move, I just burst out laughing. Into one of those laughs that you really can't stop if you tried your very hardest, the rib aching, monsterous kind of laughs that makes you giddy for hours. I remember being happy.
Haha! Or this one, I Am In Love With You by Imogen Heap. It was in ELA class when I heard it for the first time. I've been a fan of Imogen Heap since that one intense moment on the OC...but I hadn't heard this particular song. Katie, who I sit in front of, lent me an earphone. I remember thinking the song sounded ridiculous, but only because I was hearing half of it. The room seemed to disappear for a second though, as I got lost in the insane techno beats. I remember being free.
Oooh man, Shame On You by Hot Hot Heat. This song brings me right back to the summer of 2005. I can recall belting this song out at the top of my lungs on the phone with Taryn, and also singing along to it as I was blinded by the neon lights on the Cokestage. I remember hearing this song for the first time too, at my mom's house. I didn't like them at first, at all, but that's usually the case with most of my favourite bands. It's a good one though, absolutely. Running with scissors wasn't smart, I tripped and cut open your heart, I didn't mean to but I seem to have pushed us back to the start..I remember having fun.
AW! This song almost brings tears to my eyes at the simple dream that my sweetheart will be crooning it to me one day, pored over his beat-up guitar. Mmph. It's Goo Goo Dolls with Iris. I think my most vivid memory with this one would have to be at the first pep rally I've ever attended. The bell accidentally went off, and it just happened to be this song that rang out through the gym. I don't recall who was talking, or what was even happening, but I glanced up behind me at the bleachers full of students, my heart broke into a million little pieces. A huge cluster of them were swaying back and forth and singing the lyrics, confidently and ever-so-sweetly. It's just one of those moments...you know? I remember being united.
Oh boy, here's a classic. Speaking of the OC, California by Phantom Planet. So many amazing and heart-wrenching episodes have begun with this to-the-point tune. We're in California, we are who we are, we're going to have some fun with a side of drama. Easy-peasy. I've also belted this song out to Taryn over the phone, doing the whole Califoooooooorniaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa thing over and over until I got it right in one lungful. Haha! Another fun time connected with this song would be at Calaway Park, the day that Maggie, Kayla, Katie, Taryn and I went. This was one of the many songs implanted in my brain then, and Taryn mistook 'Phantom Planet' for Vampire Planet, and Phantom Vampire. We were sitting outside of the Cotton Candy stand. I remember the strangest things..
Thinking about it, Telescope Eyes by Eisley actually does have some meaning to me. At first I was about to blow it off, but on my looong drive to BC in May, it shuffled onto my iPod. Instantaneously, Matt Leung popped into my head. If you listen to the lyrics, you'll know why. In the moment, in that situation, it all made sense. I tend to remember people a lot.
Oh of course. My alltime favourite song, New Slang by The Shins. I'm not even going to list the thousands of times this song has picked me up from the complete slumps. Instead, I'll tell you about the first time my ears got to bask in this delectable, delicious harmony. It had to have been at least three years ago. I was sitting in my living room, on my couch, watching The Wedge. At the time, I was into obscure music that made no sense whatsoever, and that made me think, and escape to some strange..musical vortex. Shut up. I know it sounds incredibly lame but I'm not even going to lie. That's what it was! My brain seemed to stop as I sat and took in the song, every chord and hummed lyric..it changed me. It spoke to me. And many years later, it was the theme of my favourite movie. Fate? Who knows. I remember that moment.

I think I'm done as far as remembering goes tonight. I love my life. Almost as much, I love my memories, and even though I'm not ready to leave this city yet, I'm definitely not done making them here.

please take a moment to ..

picture this:

You are disoriented, shivering and you feel extremely uncomfortable. You are slowly walking through a pitch-black tunnel. It is not a happy place. You do not know how you got here, why you are here, or how you are going to get out of here. You just know that you want to be safe.

There is a click to your left. Two firm hands take your shoulders and shove you into a dim, dank room. It smells of metal and a strong cleaning liquid of some sort, one that you recognize but cannot place. The room has four walls and a simple tiled floor. The only heat and light source shines from a single incandescent light bulb screwed into a ceiling socket. It is barely on, a thought runs through your mind that it might almost be dead. It gives you an uneasy feeling, as if you can relate. You take a glance around you. The floor feels solid under your feet. You take a step forward. There is a faint buzz and suddenly the entire room is engulfed in a blinding white flash, and what seems to be thousands of ticking clocks are exposed. The sound is deafening. Each clock is set to a different time. The monster of a grandfather clock facing you on a diagonal is placed at 9:20. The analog on the shelf to your right reads 10:53. An old school alarm clock is defiantely sporting a '2:51'. There are no windows. Your head swivels around to glance at each clock. They all have a glaze, as if they've been polished with a dirty rag. Taking a closer look at a few clocks on the walls, you find that they are firmly bolted in place. In an attempt to relocate a large coffee table slash clock, you also find that it is secure. There has to be at least three hundred clocks and watches and time-tellers crammed into this single room. There is barely enough room for you to sit down in the dead center of the room, yet you can easily manouver through the spaces inbetween the clocks. 8:42. 1:03. 3:16. Time seemed to be of the essence, the seconds were slipping by, the minutes passing.

You took a minute to think to yourself. Where do the seconds go after they have fulfilled their purpose? Each moment of time is lived, then discarded. As far as we know, it's impossible to go back in time and relive or recapture or fix our mistakes. The time is just passing by, like a friend in the neighborhood or a carefree butterfly on a drowsy summer day. As you inch through the rows of clocks, you spot an hour-glass precariously hiding behind a shelf. Examining it closer, you notice that it has not been dusted or polished in what seems to be years. There is a thick layer of grime covering it's surface. You try to unveil the glass, but you just end up smearing the dirt around. The suspense is killing you. Is there any sand at all trapped within the glass? Is it at the bottom? Stuck at the top? Filled completely? How much time is left? Has time stopped?

You take a strong hold of one end of the hour-glass and swiftly turn it around. In an instant, one blink of an eye, the ticking stops. Your heartbeat seems to stop with it. There is a voice...


'Take all time into extreme consideration. You do not know how much of it you have left to spend. Enjoy every second of life that you can to it's fullest extent. Always breathe deeply and let the ones you love know how much you love them. Use these moments, these precious moments, to smile. Laugh. Learn as much as you can. Never lose sight of what is important to you. This moment could be your last.'

In the end I'll be okay.

It seems like every year around this time, a switch is flicked on. Lights are strung, traditional boxes are pulled out and emptied, bank accounts are left hollow and a little Christmas spirit is ignited in every one of us. For the past couple of years, my heart full of ice has melted and doused the burning flame. (Can I get a 'Bah Humbug?) This year though, I'm stoked for Christmas, and even though I might be spending it alone, I'm positive that I'll have an amazing holiday.


Today I had one of the best mall visits EVER. Why, you ask? Pop quiz! Is it a) I spent it with two of my very best best friends, b) Calgary transit was actually on our side for once, c) Although the cold was bitter and biting, it was strangely bearable, or d) My purchases weren't over the top and we got what we came for? I can't fool any of you, of COURSE it's e) All of the above! I can only describe our afterschool adventure to Market Mall as stupendous and one mall experience I know I'll never forget. I've decided to depict a little play-by-play of our trip, partially to re-live the spectacular moments and to see if I can actually remember them all.

We had decided to gather our belongings and collaborate in the mall. Students were milling about, and the usual gossipy chattering teenagers were doing their usual gossipy chattering thing. The three of us; Steven, Maggie and I, were joined by the two Matthew's who eventually departed for their homes. We decided on a plan of action and followed through. Trudging through a field of snow, Maggie gets a bright idea to run to the side door of our hallway to see if she can grab mitts from our locker. It's locked. So is the door fairly beside it. Steven and I had a jolly laugh at the idea of someone walking out of the door and smacking Maggie in the face ... It was really quite humourous, I swear. To no avail, Maggie trotted back, and we continued across the 'tundra on the plains'. Eventually arriving at Steven's house, we entered and associated with the Evanik's. His Reddeerian Aunt was visiting, and she offered to drive Steve up to the bank to cash his cheque and Dylan up to Co-op to buy some milk. Maggie and I awkwardly chilled in the car with her, then we were dropped off at the loop. The wait for the 20 wasn't too bad, and when it arrived it left right away. Bonus!! I got a little phone call from my mommy at Brentwood, and it was really sweet. I love those special phone calls, the ones who's only purpose is to say hi or to check up or to say I love you. I'm so lucky, and I don't even realize it. Yeah. So. The 9 didn't take long either, only five minutes or so, and we were rolling along to ze centro comercial in no time at all. I had to pee, and we were all feeling the call of the stomach, so we took a left and ended up in the food court. ..etc, etc, I downed fries and chubby chicken, Maggie inhaled a 6'' turkey and tomato sub on italian cheese and herb bread and Steve msg'd a plate of rice and ginger beef. We had a flavourful conversation on rice, and the real meat inside ginger 'beef'. We're insisting it's pork in disguise. Washing it down with water, apple juice, and coke; respectively, we headed out to browse. I'm not going to meticulately outline every store we went into and the exact things we picked up and looked at, even though I do have the ability to (just not the time). I do recall stopping by HMV first though, and Steve contemplating which CD to buy. I picked up a little addition to Taryn's ho-ho-horde of gifts heading her way this year, and I would mention what that was BUT she does have the potential to read this and that would spoil things a bit. Ha. I phoned her to tell her this tidbit of info, and we had a lively chat in Old Navy. Steve fell in love with a gorgeous coat, Maggie and I wandered about, then we ambled onwards to the vast Mall de Market. The real reason that we even travelled AAALL that way was to find Steven a new backpack, (or knapsack or backsack or knappitysackybagpacksack) and we were starting to lose hope in West 49, some fancy-shmancy store, Sportcheck and a few others. Walking by Below the Belt, a few cheerful notes of a Motion City Soundtrack song hopped over and greeted our ears, beckoning us inside. We took it as a good omen, and soon enough, Steven had purchased a gorgeous backpack. Imagine that. It really does suit him well though, I must say. To our relief, we skipped to Starbucks and pigged out on a Jones for the Saint, a bear-claw to share, and two 'tall' chai tea latte's for the ladies. At the pick-up end, the employee confirmed our order. Here's a little snippet of the conversation that went down:

Man: So that's...?
Maggie: Two tall chai tea latte's.
Tesla: No no no, that's when you say two VENTI chai tea latte's, haha!
Man: I really don't care.
Maggie and Tesla: ....really?
Man: Sure. Do you want venti's?
(did he even have to ask?)

We were delighted! I did feel a tad sick after sipping at that monster but hey, free tea is free tea. Exhausted, the three of us sunk into Market Mall's lovely chairs, and collected our thoughts. I've seem to have forgotten lately how much I love my friends, and this fifteen minutes or so of just chillin' made it all come back to me. I love you guys! ..er. anyway. Steve bought his BEAUTIFUL coat, and then I grabbed a couple of CD's: Speak For Yourself by Imogen Heap and First Impressions of Earth by The Strokes (finally), and Steven bought the new release from This Providence. I had a nice little talk with the employees of HMV, a really fast one, and I have a feeling that it was only understood on my end. We paused to bundle up before embracing the cold again, and we only waited at the stop for the 9 for a minute or so. At Brentwood, the robotic 'next bus in twenty-nine minutes' did not sound pleasant, so we took shelter in the train station. Spotting the 20, we ran for it, and made it. What a comfortable bus ride home! That seriously never happens. It's either cramped or smelly or boring. This particular one was filled with fun stories and laughs and warm fuzzies. We made it to Steven's humble abode and took off soon after picking up our things, and Larry drove me home. ..Larry is Maggie's father. Then I had broccoli rice with dinner, and it was a wonderful thing.

So all in all, today was not only productive but also an outlet for self-discovery. It shovelled me out of my slump that I've been in for the past week or so, and gave me a new perspective on life as I thought I knew it. Oh, and I feel like I've been handed a new sense of sight. I bobby-pinned my bangs back and I can actually SEE!

I loved today. There's no way that we can repeat such an amazing evening, but we can sure try. I love you Maggie McDonald and Steven Evanik, and thank you for today.

love always, xo.

ergt.

Patience.

It's something I definitely don't have.

Samson went back to bed, he told me that my hair was red.

I wonder why most of the greatest reflective moments I have are in the shower. Take today's, for example. It's midnight now, but I peeled myself away from the couch to jump in before I fell asleep at around 11:30. My timing could use a little improvement, but that's another story. I was going through the motions, y'know, HAVING A SHOWER, and I took a moment to stick my head under the stream of warm water and think. I definitely haven't done that in a while. Breathing deeply, I stretched my arms upwards and decided to focus forward from that point on. Lately I haven't been able to focus at all, so just imagine what weight this decision has on my future. It's been a pain presently peeking at my past, and even more of a prickly plotline prodding around the present, so taking a risky step into tomorrow is a welcomed yet scary thought. I can do it though. All of this tactful pondering about what's already happened is getting me nowhere fast.
I need a thinking chair. I'm not going for the Blue's Clues look, the large sink-into type of thing. Nah, I think I'm thinking more figuratively here. I can't sit and reflect in my living room, I know I would end up turning on my television and getting lost in the motion picture and sound. My room wouldn't work either, this technology typhoon piece-of-junk hasn't failed to suck me in yet. I'd rather not situate myself in my kitchen either, as I know I'd just think about what to eat next. My bathroom doesn't sit well, obviously, and my spare room, ironically, has no room at all. Where then, can I go, that's warm and suits my thinking needs? I would go plop down on my favorite bench just up the road but I know I would freeze myself silly and there would be absolutely no pondering going on at all. Errg. This is extremely inconvienient.
But for now, I need to focus on not failing grade ten. That, my friends, is a very forward thought. ...kind of. I need to make a list! My room definitely needs a good tidy, for starters, and my studying could use some ...doing. Sprucing up. YEAH, that's it. Maybe if I clean my living space then I'll clear my mind too! Lets hope. And maaaybe if I go over my notes then I'll be able to set my mind on finishing my homework! ...AHAHAHA. I'm a natural comedian, seriously.
Now I'm just started to make no sense at all.
Nevermind.

love always, xo.

it's a hard parade, just be courageous.

I don't.....know.



I feel real again. Like I'm back in my own skin. I guess it only took a crappy local show to kick things back into gear. It wasn't so much the venue or the music that brought me back, I think it was the people. I saw two of my best friends, met my e-husband, saw tons of kids I really miss talking to and met a whole bunch of other ones I know I'll miss talking to in the near future. I did feel a little out of place, but at the same time I felt right at home. All I can really say at this point is: I can't wait for the show next weekend, and thanks.


Yeah.

Thanks.

'cause there's beauty in the breakdown

I think I lost track of myself somewhere along the way. It's extremely unfortunate because that's all I have in the long run. When chicks are chicks and dicks are dicks, I'll have myself. I can only blame myself for my past, and I can only believe in myself to create my future. I guess I call myself my 'God'. I am my own religion.

re‧li‧gion
noun
a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.


Sounds about right to me. I haven't discovered why I'm here, nor the purpose of the universe, but I'm well on my way to finding out. To be frank, I don't really believe that there is a cause or a purpose. It just is. We just are. You are, I am, we just are. Here. Now. &the only thing that we can be is ourselves. The only thing that we can do is be ourselves. When I die, I will only have myself. I won't bury my friends with me, I won't drag my family along, I won't stuff my enemies and the people I loathe in the casket as I'm lowered into the ground. I'll be alone. EXCEPT for my stuffed cat of course, Katrina. That's always been my master plan.

There's always room for speculation. There's never a bad time to have an open-mind. You're never too busy, too tired, too unattractive, too rushed, too stressed, too old, too young, too average or too poor to smile. Do us all a favour, look on the bright side. Irregardless if you like green grass or not. Oh, and one last thing before I go, remember to never let your mind go to waste. It's an incredibly powerful thing. Whatever is troubling you, just know that you'll make it through.

Would it kill you?

the new beginning.

39 past 11 o'clock, October 28th 2006
Saturday

I get these thoughts. thoughts.
marathon.

I can't find a way to express them in words, a gunshot will trigger a serious of thoughts.
thoughts.

I'm watching garden state with Crystal.
Dory is dying of Cancer. The crab.
thoughts.

I could be with you. I want to be with you. I think you want me to be with you.

It's hard to breathe lately.


thoughts.
it has been a wild ride.

42 past 11 o'clock, October 28th 2006
Saturday

leave your heart in it's place

Sondre Lerche is terrific music to fall in love to, especially in autumn. It's easy to imagine that the leaves are dropping to their pavement deathbeds as my heart flutters and screams out in pain. It hurts to fall in love, especially when you resist it. Latest news: I purchased Two Way Monologue's today! Remember? By Sondre Lerche? Now all I have to do is construct a portfolio, sharpen up my english, and get into ACAD. Then piece together my dress. Oh, and buy an apartment of course. Voila!


Seriously though, you will know what I like soon enough. Not YOU, persay, as the reader of this blog. I do this thing sometimes when I just ramble on about 'you', and it turns out being ten different people by the time I'm done. It's kind of humourous how it is you, but you won't read this. If you really want to know what I would change about you, fine, here:
1. Try to think less superficially.
2. Get the mindset OUT of your mind that showing affection will kill you.
3. Listen up, speak up, and learn how to say goodbye.


I hope you're happy. Now, moving on to other things. There is no word or phrase or action that can describe how positive and ready and prepared I am and that I'm going to be to be a fashion designer. Or at least, I'm going to make a significant impact on the fashion industry. I'll start my research now and get the knowledge drilled into my head. Then what? Send letters to Vogue pleading to be in their next issue? Yeah right. I guess I'll start with picking up the monthly editions of bleeding ink reflecting my passion, the glossy sheets softly butterfly-stroking through my pupils.


Nothing will stand in my way. Fashion is my life, it's always on my mind and nothing will change that. To stop living and breathing fashion is equivalent to throwing myself and my ten closest friends off the tallest building I can find. Don't worry though, I assure you: that will never happen.

what happened to 'love always, xo'?

Since my mom and all of her lj friends read this now, I have to keep things moderate. It shouldn't be that hard, considering I'm pretty tame to begin with. We'll see.

So I had a nice soak with a friend tonight. I can't really pinpoint if I'm more disappointed at what didn't happen, or pleased with what did. There was a huge potential for a little of this, and a little of that...a little somethin' somethin' if you know what I mean. Of course, none of that happened. I would've kicked the flirt drive into gear (or is it flirt gear into drive) but there was also a potential for really messing up our friendship. I definitely don't want that.

I guess I don't know what I want. It would be nice to know what I did wrong though.

Oh well.

I promise.

As my idol once said,
'bros before hos is the rule, read the guidelines.'


That means I can CLEVERLY ignore her, and BELIEVE in him. Enough of the SICK LEAVE boy, we're right back into the groove. I'm ready to ACHIEVE with you, and WE'VE got some work to do but don't GRIEVE, we'll RELIEVE stress and RECIEVE success before CHRISTMAS EVE.

and that's not MAKE BELIEVE.

ATTN: girl.

You're really driving yourself deeper into a ditch and you don't even see it. I think the worst thing is that you have the support of your family, and you do it with them and you're given freedom to make all the wrong choices. I wish I could make you see it though, maybe shove you into a bright room or take your blinders off. You're going to fail high school if you keep this up. Sure, your motor skills are greatly improved in that state but where is your mind?


Oh, and I would appreciate if you stopped making our locker smell terrible in your crazed plea for a year of hell.

halloween is coming!!

I'm starting to get used to the hectic lifestyle and insane environment of high school. I like how I'm treated as an adult as opposed to a child. I like how I've avoided drama completely so far, aside from the glares and sneers I get on the stairwell. I like how i can just shrug everything off. I like the newfound confidence I have, and the self-esteem I never knew I had. Nothing has really changed since this summer, I'm still spending my free time with the people I love (mostly) and stressing over silly things and not doing any homework and working and talking to Taryn every day. I can't exactly wear whatever I want anymore, my wardrobe choices are slightly limited now. It's not that I care what people think, I really don't, but I'd rather not be interrogated about my fashion sense at the moment. The boy situation is still on hold. No improvement. The teachers are more slack and less strict, most of them swear and don't care at all. I can't find my glue stick.

I've discovered that I prefer being a wallflower to being the center of attention. My ego actually has limits, believe it or not. In spanish the other day, a video was playing and the majority of the class was sleeping, a few were talking and several were scribbling mind trash onto looseleaf. I sat facing the class and scanned each being. Two particulars were getting to know eachother; smiling, laughing and nodding in affirmation to the previous statements. I wish I knew what they were talking about. The kids engulfed in slumber crouched over their binders or desks, breathing heavily. I wondered what they were dreaming about. The doodlers and daydreamers, almost lost in the densely populated forest of their brains, stared off into empty space. I tried to tap my way into their heads to figure out what they were thinking about. I don't know why, but I love observing kids and their families in their living spaces, comfortable and 'at home'. A house is just a house, brand new furnishings and glossy leather loveseats and granite countertops and a bedroom straight out of the latest IKEA catalog...it's all just a house to me. Opening my eyes to see the scuffmark on the floor from so and so's new leather boots in their mad dash for the door that morning, or the crumbs under the toaster or the V left in the carpet from whatsherface's hair straightener when she almost burnt the house down or the crowded mantlepiece or the family portraits or the pile of pine tree needles from last christmas that no one will sweep up or the thumbed through newspaper left in a heap on the kitchen table from that morning...or even just a messy bedroom. Every tiny thing makes each house a home -- it gives it character. I would love to construct an experiment -- to build five homes EXACTLY the same and furnish them EXACTLY the same and unleash five families...say a bachelor, a lawyer and his desperate housewife and their two kids and their german shephard, a single mom with a daughter, a bustling family of eight (mother, father, two boys [one's a baby], three girls, grandma), and a married couple of thirty-six years (very much in love STILL) with three grandchildren that come to visit on a regular basis. I would analyze how each family took their bright home and made it their own. I would pay special attention to their routines and meals and sleep patterns and household upkeep and time spent together and stress levels and music played in the house..just little meticulate details. I would do it just because I could. Not to be creepy or anything, just because I could.

Now I'm headed to bed. Modest Mouse has made me sleepy, and it's late. 1:30 am late. AND I have to work tomorrow. How lovely.

love always, xo

I guess I didn't know you as well as I thought.

Where do I go from here? Looking at my tear-stained face in the mirror, I asked myself that exact question. What can I do to fix myself?

I was doing so good. High school was fabulous, I was at the top of my game when it came to my social life and everything was breezing by just fine. I liked a boy, I had tons of friends and the famous five in particular, and I got the locker I wanted. I could deal with all of my classes and I was handing work and leadership fine. Then, suddenly out of nowhere, I hit a rock and things started to suck into a huge tornado of unfortunate events. Everywhere I looked disaster was multiplying. The boy found someone else and didn't bother telling me that the date he agreed to was only a friend thing. I've been feeling extreme hostility from a few kids of the quintet. As soon as something improved, everything came crashing down.

Then everything went blurry. I remember wanting to pull my hair out and almost succeeding. I wanted to cause bodily harm to someone. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to leave. I want salvation.

but who cares what i need!?

I'm tempted to give up on love completely. I mean, at least until someone falls in love with me, which is highly unlikely. Seriously though, things were going so well. I finally fell for someone out of the normal Tesla range, we were talking fine and getting along fine and moving forward and things were swell. I stood out in the rain for an hour and a half watching him play football. I was completely lovestruck. Then what happens? The girl in ELA that annoys me to death swoops out of nowhere and snatches him away. I would use the cliche, 'why do these things always happen to me?' line, but I know that there's no point. These things happen to everybody. WHY do these things have to happen though!? Why can't it just be smooth sailing from here on in? High school was so wonderful. I need Ashly, a mug of tea and a hug.

Update:
Everything's fine now, they broke up. Oh high school drama, lets be tight this year.

I can't wait until fashion tomorrow.

I've never felt so unattached to anyone before. I mean, I thought we were doing so good. Our friendship just transformed into velcro and I was viciously ripped apart and set aside. My heart feels so heavy. It would lighten the load if I knew you didn't mean what you said but I know you did. I'll probably never understand what you went through. I absolutely hate her, and I love you, and I never want to hear about her again. And you leaving is the icing on the cake. It's not just that I want to talk to you, I love our conversations and all but you smell REALLY GOOD. My nose is plugged from sniffling, I'm out of chai tea and new slang is giving me a headache. I guess it's that time of year to pull out the space heater again...

lalala

trembling willows in the aspen grove
shook silently, as we drove
on and on through the curtains draped green
it's hard to describe what it meant to me

the leaves sit tight, barely make a sound
until autumn comes and they fall to the ground

megatron.

Okay, so maybe in your eyes, I'm not perfect. Maybe I'm your idealistic image of 'girlfriend material.' Maybe not. And maybe, just maybe, I have feelings. I wish I had kisses to miss. I wish that there was more to me than what you see. I wish I could gaze at myself through my full length mirror across from my chair; curled up in a ball in my burgundy velvet tights and blue socks and olive green shirt, hair down: blonde and thick and curly, the last traces of today's makeup lingering on my eyes, my thin limbs poised at the keyboard; and see something more than a temperamental teenaged girl. I give up. Sure, I'm cute, but I just don't belong here, now. Sadly, I couldn't tell you where I belong. Maybe back in the bloodbath of a school field with my great friends. Maybe..

don't leave so fast.
don't leave so fast.

getting fresh.

I put the kettle on to boil, took the Lipton Green Tea box from the cupboard and plopped a bag into a mug. Going over next paycheque's shopping list in my head, I thought fresh. Getting fresh = mouthwash, ferbreeze, honeycomb and nutella. I passed the front door in a mad dash to my welcoming computer chair and paused. The front door stood ajar. I backtracked and walked towards my it in a daze. Sitting, waiting and wishing on the chilly masterpiece I call my front steps I stargazed and attempted to control the raging butterflies in my stomach.

It's moments like these that I live for.

Snap, Crackle, Pop.

She took another swig from the glass neck, concealed by a rough brown paper bag. The splishy-splashy swish momentarily warmed her heart and the tips of her fingers. Her clothes were filthy and tattered, her dead rusty hair in thousands of twisted knots. From the ground up, she stood over the pavement casting a staggering shadow of menace. Unaware of her surroundings or the image she was portraying, the figure stepped out from behind the dumpster. Feeling her pocket, a wave of panic swept over her body. No. Not panic, that was the familiar wave of the alcohol seeping in. Taking a breath, she felt her pocket again. Still there. Knowing that everything must go exactly as planned, she took her time. Every second that she had left to take she took. Painstakingly inching along the brick wall and stumbling over broken glass and discarded items of clothing and used needles and used feelings and heavy regrets and mistakes and dirt and filth and shit, she made it to the corner. One hand out to steady her. One hand clutching the liquid. Both feet wobbling in the debris. Ouch. Eyes: meet the enemy, a blinding sheet of neon. City lights: you know the drill. Unprepared and temporarily sightless, she continued on towards the sleaze of open waters. By reflex, her hand sluggishly made it's way to her coat pocket. Still there. Giving her eyes a moment to adjust, she leaned up against a rigid doorway. Bringing the lip of the smooth glass to her own burnt lips, another swig was taken back. Burning her throat like hell and distinguishing the fire in her head all in one go, it headed down, down, down. Let gravity do it's thing damnit. Let it be.
Hey sugar.
Tilting her head towards the sound of the scruffy voice, she felt another wave hit her from behind. It felt damn good. Standing next to her was a puny little man, holding a large duffel bag and a smaller brown bag similiar to her own. From the way he was cautiously perching it upon his bare arm, she doubted it was liquor. Looking towards the face of the newcomer, she stopped dead upon spotting his poorly concealed neck. An ink black gash was gaping up at her, oozing with some sort of tar-like mush. Her first instinct was to run. Run fast, run far, start running now. However, her body screamed otherwise. She wasn't going anywhere and she especially wasn't doing it fast. Paralyzed, her eyes scanned the rest of his head. Seemingly intact, the only other damage seemed to be the sunrise of his left eye and some caked blood on his chin. Oh, and half of his upper lip was torn off. He looked a lot safer than most streetgoers.
Are you just going to stand there eyeing me or are you going to speak? Hey Dollface? Cat got your tounge?
She couldn't speak. Her tounge felt dry and lifeless in her mouth, her throat was a volcano of acid and cheap alcohol, her body was heavy. She glared at him with her fading green eyes and spit in his direction. Another swig, another wave, another check. Still there.

video, radio, stereo.

thau·ma·tur·gy
n.

1. The working of miracles or magic feats.

Sneezes are powerful things. If the world was fueled by allergic-electric power, we would never need to use gas again. Sure, it's unreliable, but think of the possibilities!

I've been neglecting many things lately. Myself, for one. Today as I was playing this game, the only thing that I could think of was homosexuality. It's beyond me why, but I just couldn't shake it. Just the simple act of opening my linen closet door seems immensly relevant.

Sweet dreams Seattle, stay classy.

what do I need?

I want to live in a city where the lights never diminish. Where I can construct and live in a masterpiece in which every room has a vibrant color and theme. Where I can have 14 coffee tables in places that don't need coffee tables. Where I can come home to a surround sound stereo serenading me in my liveliest or most dejected of moods. Where I can store all of my families memories as well as my own in a dusty old attic perched beneath the roof. Where I can take lavish baths in a clawed tub, admist towers of towels and fogged mirrors. Where I can hold tea parties in the sitting room with my closest chums. I want to direct harmonies and melodies and accompany lyrics in a whirlwind musical prodigy. I want to piece together delicate stories on canvass with a glass of water, a series of paintbrushes and a set of watercolors. I want to make millions of memories and laugh, for all it's worth. I want to be accountable for my life, every minute of it. I never want to cheat, lie, steal or deceive ever again. I want truth and integrity. I want to be independantly wealthy. I want to learn how to hold on to what I have. I want to learn how to be completely content with what I have. I want to learn how not to be so greedy and want ever so much. I want to be respected and admired. I want to be an influential member of society. I want a life.

Oh, and Taryn, I'd like Catcher In The Rye back as soon as possible. It's very important that I read it again.

sdos.

I may not have a lot of things. Material things, physical things, things I hold or cherish. But what I do have, I have a lot of; beauty, imperfections and imagination. I possess these gifts with a side of gentle logic and a mind capable of anything I set it to. I could have everything I've ever dreamed and wished for, but I'd rather life my life without the froufrou and frills. What's life without struggles?

park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me.

gib·bet n.

1. A device used for hanging a person until dead; a gallows.
2. An upright post with a crosspiece, forming a T-shaped structure from which executed criminals were formerly hung for public viewing.

If my black eye wasn't screaming for attention right at this moment, I would be ultimately picture perfect. Parts of it are taking lessons from Autumn and turning a nice sickly shade of yellow, other are refusing to be anything else but a deep violet. No make-up can hide the hideous thing, it's there and it's there for good. Of course, that is until it fades. I do feel glamorous at this moment though, my eyes are still finely lined, my skin's naturally aglow, and my lips are a soft shade of rosy blush. My hair is deflated, though still straight and golden as always. Why is it that at these precise moments, I'm camera-less? Whenever I do have a camera in my hands, I either look disgusting or it's dead. Eh, quella è vita .

I danced my heart out tonight. Broken Social Scene was so easy to just let loose to and be free. I sat through Feist, but I still sang my heart out. I should really save most of my night for my journal journal, as I'm not going to want to repeat it. But I'm really serious about the dancing, it was nice to just do it how I wanted to for once. Usually when I go somewhere with a group of people, I don't want to dance like crazy because I'm aware of prying eyes and disapproving glares. Tonight I really didn't care. I knew I was getting both of those things but it didn't matter to me, and I just danced. Surveying my surroundings, I spotted sparkling downtown building lights behind a tree which splayed a startling image across my left side. Twinkling and sheltered. Above me, a sheet of grey enveloped the sky, giving centre stage a dome effect. Looking straight into the clouds, I recalled something that I seem to have lost sight of lately. The stars will always shine, whether I can see them or not. They were nowhere to be found but it was reassuring to know that they would keep on shining irregardless. On my right was another pair of trees and beyond, the river. I went for a short stroll by a couple rocks and marveled in the beauty of the cool water. I don't know if it was just me, but the river seemed to be in an awful hurry to get somewhere. I wonder if it ever thinks to slow down and take a break once and a while. During a BSS song, one of their last, they told the crowd to 'throw your hands up in the air and scream, because it's good for you.' I set my chocolate gelato down on the ground, tossed my arms to the depths of the atmosphere above and let out a wail. I can't possibly explain how that felt to me, I really let go of a ton of stress that I've been harbouring. I guess Broken Social Scene really do know what they're talking about. A while before, when the first few notes of 7/4 (shoreline) rang out through the park, something shot through me. Tears sprung to my eyes and my breath was held hostage. I squee'd, 'this is my song!' and my mom persuaded me to go dance. Reluctantly I got up, shaked a couple of beats and ran through the sea of standing ovations to be to an open patch of grass. I stayed there until that song was over, shimmying and frantically pointing to any-which particles flying by. I felt right at home.

love always. go folk yourself, xo.

of turledoves and boxing gloves, and simply none of the above.

Today was shitty. However, thanks to a very amazing friend, tonight was spectacular. Despite his efforts to deny the truth, I owe him a whole lot for inviting me into his home and giving me a good talking to, along with a cup of tea to wash it down with. It was hard to swallow, I can honestly say that. But I did it, and I'm going to make it past this. Unfortunately, I need to realize that I'm going to have many more of these days. Complete and utter hell, caused by a boy (again) or the canceling of my favorite television show or the death of the cat that I'm so set on having in the future. It simply inevitable, I can't escape it and even if I could, I wouldn't. Why? Because I couldn't, and I really shouldn't. I learn so much every time my heart is shattered into a million little pieces. For starters, I gain the knowledge on how to mend it back together. Whether it's a bucket of ice cream paired with a sappy movie or a salty hurricane to give Katrina a run for it's money, or even a trip to a St. Steven's castle; it'll be recorded and remembered. For every great tragedy there's a heroic story behind the reconstruction. Or at least, there should be.

Now as I sit here, in my sweats and one of the most comfortable shirts I own, I'm at ease and yet still on my guard. Although my hair's disheveled, tears are caked on my face and my bruise is shining like there's no tomorrow (pun intended), I'm beautiful though I definitely don't look it. I have two of the most understanding parental figures that I could ever wish for, and for that I'm thankful. (Two out of three, it could be worse) I'm nestled in my room; four jigsaw walls, a hot cross window and a flimsy door. It's my haven, my shelter, my retreat, and although it's cluttered and absent of all things Ikea, it's home. Which is much more than loads of people I know could say. I have a roof over my head, two figures who worry themselves to death when I sneak off into the night, elegance and logic. What more could I ask for? ...Wait, don't answer that if you know what's good for you, please.


It's no secret! If I was guaranteed a wish come true, you all know what I would choose. No, not a lifetime supply of tea. No, not a day in the life of Emily Haines. No, not fifty more wishes. (Though it wouldn't hurt to try) I would wish for love. Real, true love. I know it exists and I'm destined to find it. I want it more than anything else, the whirlwind romance and knight in shining armour to sweep me off my feet. What female on the face of this earth doesn't? Okay, that might be a bit broad, but really. It's always been a fantasy of mine, and it looks like it won't become anything else anytime soon. Plus, I'm a Pisces, a natural dreamer and a true romantic at heart. It's in my blood to love and be loved in return. Why is it then, has fate veered me off of love's course? I'm sick of being lonely and I want someone to hold me for God's sakes. Can I make it any more blunt? I highly doubt it. Every male specimen I choose to hold dear to my heart has mercifully ripped it to shreds. Not so much as a single flutter be the only reaction I stir up in theirs. Sure, I'll fancy them like mad, but I'm just a blip to them. A faceless, worthy-of-affectionless, meaningless blip. This has happened how much now? Too many times to count. Too many boys lost but never forgotten to even bother, some even repeated the process. It's painstakingly obvious why they're called crushes; and my heart, soul and mind are fed up of the abuse they're enduring. I should really wait though, that's the thing. I just can't! I'm impatient, and at the very end of the stick. If only I could give up on this whole procedure altogether. Ha, what a joke. It's basically the only thing I think about from the dreadful moment of awakening to the last threads of conscienceness before I drift off into sleep. And even then...It continues in my dreams, as unrealistic as they may be. What is it that makes me so unappealing? If it's the thought that I'm a lonely desperado, (meaning I'm willing to throw myself at the next boy who does as much as talks to me) then that's poppycock and that thought should be immediately discarded. Sure, I crave human interaction as much as any other hormone-ridden teenager, but I'd rather develop a relationship and get to know someone thoroughly first. I'd like to discover their flaws and love every one of them to bits, even though secretly they drive me insane. I'd want to unearth secrets and be able to confide mine to this person, in a give-and-take trusting relationship. I'd rather be completely honest and frank than step around the cracks and be anyone but myself. I'd envision myself as being confident and reliable, always there and always experiencing the 'falling in love jitters' that I've pictured ever so often. It feels almost as if I need the tingles and shocks of being close to someone I adore. So what is it then? Am I really that physically unattractive? Do I turn off the opposite sex like I would in an instant to a boring documentary on keyholes in the middle of the afternoon? Is it my confidence and down-to-earth demeanor that repels boys like two magnetic south poles forced together in a pitiful attempt at connection? Is it my fearless and bitchy personality? Is it that I have too much self-esteem and I'm not like every other girl today who hates her self image and wants to lose fifty pounds instantly? (Okay, I know I know that's totally not true. Ya'll ain't fat, don't worry. But it really is ridiculous, this increase in dieting. Give it up, you have your whole life to try to stay thin. Enjoy your youth while you can!) Is it because I'm too unique and I have my own ideas and I'm not afraid to tell you what I think to your face? Is it because I really just do want it this much and I'm willing to scream it to the world? I'm not content with just the idea of love. I want real, true love. I'm probably not going to get it for years to come, but at least I can start with something. I'm not really sure that you understand the enormity of this 'want'. Perhaps you do, but it's big. Gigantic. Monstrous. Oh, look at this babbling. It's hopeless, really, this attempt at a cry for pity. Or whatever you want to call it. I feel so dejected, so wrung out and tossed aside. I'm sure it wouldn't sting so much if I had something to compare it to, like a good feeling. Oh fuck it, I can't believe I actually thought at one point that writing about it would help. If you made it to this point, good on you. I admire your determination. Unless of course, you skimmed through the sea of words to get to the wrap up. In which case, you're a bastard, gtfo my blog.

Maybe it's because I'm bitter, maybe not. I'll probably never know. I've survived junior high with some scars and many tearful nights to remember, and I guess I don't regret any of it. If there's anything that thunderstorms have taught me, it has to be that there's a lesson in everything and I should hold on to it with the tightest grasp I can manage, and to let all of the negativity in my head be zapped away by exploding stars in the night's smoky clouds.

The regular love always, xo just doesn't seem quite fitting today...

chica, shake shake.

com·pen·sate v.
com·pen·sat·ed, com·pen·sat·ing, com·pen·sates v. tr.

1. To offset; counterbalance.
2. To make satisfactory payment or reparation to; recompense or reimburse: Management compensated us for the time we worked.
3. To stabilize the purchasing power of (a monetary unit) by changing the gold content in order to counterbalance price variations.

It's been a whole week, seven full days, and all I could churn out was one measly post. (which I ended up deleting anyway_) I'm assuming it has something to do with the fact that my inspiration is currently on hold. A couple Sunday's ago, I made a to-do list, it went as follows.

• monday: finish cleaning, tidying and vacuuming room. YES!
  
• tuesday: suntan (!?), dinner at grandma's with family. YES!
  
• wednesday: print out and drop of resumes, job-hunt. YES! ..fail.
  
• thursday: chill, pirates of the caribbean two, taryn's house. YES!
  
• friday: stampede!!, see our lady peace, have insane fun, kayla's house. (!?) YES! besides seeing olp and kayla's house.
  
• saturday: trampoline! lolz. undecided. NO..

And of course I had this week as well, but as it was unplanned and spontaneous, I mostly sat at home, bored out of my large, solid skull. I did go to Maggie's house twice though, and I did laundry, and I spent Friday with Asmaa, Ashly and Taryn. I could also add the completion of a 700 piece 3D Victorian Mansion puzzle to the list, and lunch with the family. Last night I cleaned out and re-organized my music folder, which is a large accomplishment. And as of Wednesday I've been producing marvelous masterpieces with my watercolors and to-be-recycled cardboard. I have 11 so far, four were requested. What an interesting word I just typed by accident! Requestions. &accidentures. lol. Taryn and I created our own language, and we have the basics down pat. Wetzel, Woodchucks Building Supplies! The smell of permanent markers remind me of growing up, and all of the places I've been. I quite enjoy when scent triggers memory. Whenever I close my eyes I hear the MSN noise, the familiar BUHBUHBOOP that I've grown so accustomed to. I'm really tired, and I hate putting off journalling. Both online and actual. My eye ache has returned. It's too late, I really need sleep. Hopefully I'll remember to keep on this. I'm sure I'll have plenty to say about Riley Park tomorrow. Until then,

love always, xo.

heartwork.

treach·er·ous adj.

1. Marked by betrayal of fidelity, confidence, or trust; perfidious.
2. Not to be relied on; not dependable or trustworthy.
3. Marked by unforeseen hazards; dangerous or deceptive: treacherous waters.

If you feel discouraged
When there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover
It's really bursting at the seams
Absorbing everything
The spectrum's A to Z

I think it would be awfully drab to think, dream, and envision life in black and white. I couldn't imagine a world without colour. Sometimes I think that I'm fueled by it, just picturing vivid teals and soft beiges, royal violets and dazzling yellows gives me a rush of adrenaline. Sure, black and white pictures are classic and touching, but I see them just a bit too much and the effect is useless now. I wonder why it hurts to drink water today.

Broken Social Scene. I never used to enjoy their ambient melodies and sharp, fast lyrics. Today, talking to Allie, I contemplated the reason why. As expected, I can't shut 7/4 Shoreline or Shampoo Suicide or Cause = Time off. This happens ever so often, and I'm not sure anymore where the line blurs between a new love or a rediscovered one. I wonder why it's so easy for me to murder everything under my care.

Summer brings such joy to my life. It's so full of colour and life.

love always, xo.

Killing me softly, with his song..

e·va·sive
adj.

1. Inclined or intended to evade: took evasive action.
2. Intentionally vague or ambiguous; equivocal: an evasive statement.

I want more romance in my life. I'm surprised that there isn't loads already, as a pisces I'm naturally romantic. Mostly when people hear or see the word 'romance' they thing of kissing and intimacy, hearts and the colors pink and red. But there is another definition that is less known:

A mysterious or fascinating quality or appeal, as of something adventurous, heroic, or strangely beautiful.

I crave that charming feel to everything I do. When I grow skilled enough to plan elaborate clothing designs, I'll wish for them to exude romance in all areas. If I further study the culinary arts, I'll pray that each dish holds that captivating appeal. If I continue my knowledge of vocal and instrumental harmonies, then I'll count on each note ringing out to tell a story; my story. When I make a difference in the world, I hope that it will be by doing something extraordinarily romantic. I can only wish, pray, and hope though, as I'm not quite sure how to increase romance in my life. I guess I can just keep speaking and writing what's on my mind, it seems to help.

love always, xo.

I've got a jar of dirt! I've got a jar of dirt!

fab·ri·cate
tr.v. fab·ri·cat·ed, fab·ri·cat·ing, fab·ri·cates

1. To make; create.
2. To construct by combining or assembling diverse, typically standardized parts: fabricate small boats.
3. To concoct in order to deceive: fabricated an excuse.

I'm just bursting with words. Adjectives, nouns, fragments...I've reached my maximum. Yet, woe is me, nothing is coming out. I'll try to relieve some of my thoughts, although I'm positive that they won't come out right. To begin with vanity may be a sin, but these thoughts have to get out eventually. I sincerely doubt that the order is of much importance. To be born with a full head of silvery blonde hair and striking blue eyes is a blessing, no doubt, but there is no limit to what I would give to have a full head of fireshined red curly locks and emerald green eyes, with fair skin and trillions of freckles. I adore that look. Is it not ridiculous that I started this blog entry at 9:58 PM, and it's now 1:59 AM? Of course it is. I simply can not focus, and it drives me crazy. Today I tried to have a bath to calm myself and clear my head to no avail. I am still foggy and groggy and I have a terrible headache. The month is half over, my ovaries are kicking in, and the moon is fading. Maybe it's taking my good mood with it. I got my bank card today, it's neat and shiny and fun to flaunt. My room is already starting to clutter. My bed is a mountain of clothes and books and CD's and who knows what else. I miss the Stampede already, even though it made me sick and dizzy and exhausted. The familiar beeps and bangs and smashes and blinking neon lights and impossible crowds and local catastrophes and smiles stretched from one side the other and messes and dresses and trends and friends...I can't say I hated it, that's for sure. Of course, some things could've been way better. Like the mini-catastrophe we had on our own. Oh well, they should know that over-reacting gets you nowhere by now. It wasn't my fault that I was sick, and it was perfectly common sense that we wanted to get away from the crowds and still see the band. Hearing..yeahhh, that would've been nice, but I'm not kicking myself in the head for missing it. Again, oh well. Cheesy interactive Disney websites fill me with rage. Completely fried and in need of a snip, my hair is screaming, "CUT ME CUT ME CUT ME." I wish I could do it on my own. As much as I want to write about my stellar Skyride experience, I'll save it. I want to make sure I know what I'm talking about. Well, that's enough sharp rambling turns for tonight. Until next time. /tips hat.

love always, xo.

we would be frantically melting into one massive point..

I have dreams of opening my own cafe.
&cutting my toenails on four continents.
&conquering a disease.
&I feel awfully dizzy.

oops.

listening to: avril lavigne - together.
mood: err. moody.

I wrote that last entry out of spite, and I apologize. Some people deserve the world. Well, one in particular. Thank you, Steven, for making me realize that I'm an idiot. A beautiful idiot.

love always, xoxo.

BIIIIGsigh.

listening to: hot hot heat - fashion fight
mood: dejected, crushed, ugly.

I couldn't feel any more physically unattractive than I feel right now. Apparently it's fine to constantly talk about pretty girls to me, like I'm just 'one of the guys'. Sure I might be a good listener, but my self esteem is about the size of a pea right now. I'm obviously not one to come to for advice. I have no experience in this field. I'd like to have a conversation in which we DON'T talk about girls for once. News flash: I'm not fond of girls or talking about them. I'd rather not discuss them everytime you sign in. To the person who will read this and think it's about him: Don't assume it's about you, there's more than one boy who brings it up every day. I'm sick of this! I know I'm not gorgeous, I know I have nothing that boys want, I'm aware that I'm undesirable and it's come to my attention that I'm unwelcome in any 'more than friends' relationship. But must you all bring it up ever so often? Can't you leave me alone in my misery? Sure, I love to listen and I always want to help in any way I can, and sure, you are teenage boys with raging hormones, but that's no excuse. Find another boytoy to talk to and make sure to mention that I'm STILL single. On second thought, don't. I'm sure ridiculing and bouts of laughter would surface. Just nevermind I even brought it up.

Changing gears. I'm not as unique as I'm made out to be. There are abundant amounts of people who like the same music as I do, wear the same style of clothes as I do, eat the same things as I do, have the same ideas and dreams and ambitions as I do, sport the same hairdo as me, go to the same places that I do, have the same problems, share the same fears, and have many other similar qualities. Everybody's unique, what makes me any different?

love always, xo.

who knows how to cut hair?

listening to: our lady peace - clumsy.
condition: stiff, moody.

I haven't had enough tragedy in my life. Sure, you could say that I'm complaining again, but I'm really not. I've always had everything handed to me (mostly) and an alright life so far. Lately I've hoped for something exciting to happen, something that would alter my idea of the future, something that would put fear in the pit of my stomach or give an everlasting glow to my heart. This said, I'm assuming it's the reason why I'm so overdramatic and eager to twist and shape things to make them more interesting. At least I don't create my own tragic scenarios or lie about them, that would just ruin the whole idea. Just think about it though. No one that I've been very close to has passed away, my parents split up when I really young (so I don't remember much of it), I haven't had to pack everything up and move away from this neighborhood (let alone city or country), I've never had to go to a hospital except for visits, I've never had to change schools, I've never seen anything TOO terribly gory in person, and I live a comfortable and bearable life. Then why is it, despite the fact that I have no money, that I'm so unhappy all of the time? I wish someone could answer that question, although I know nobody can. Does misery bring happiness? Do I need a tragedy to be happy? These two extremes, do they go hand in hand? Please, some answers would be nice.

love always, xo.

what my soul really looks like. (!?)

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are a warm hearted and open minded person. It's easy for you to forgive and forget. You are not a very grounded person. You prefer dreams to reality. For you, it's all about possibilities. You believe that people see you as larger than life and important. While this is true, they also think you're a bit full of yourself. Your near future is likely to be filled with great successes and accomplishments. You just need to figure out how to get there. For you, love is all about caring and comfort. You couldn't fall in love with someone you didn't trust.

Inside the Room of Your Soul

..sweeet.

I mean it's dirty to keep yelling 'Digression!' at him when he's all nice and excited.

listening to: IMA Robot - Dynomite
condition: allergic, thankful.

Old people have a lot of skin. I'm kind of ..not looking forward to seeing how much skin I'll have. Considering I have altogether WAY too much as is, once it starts to sag I'm screwed. Can't you just picture the headlines? WOMAN CHOKES ON EXCESS SKIN IN SLEEP. Oh my lordie. I ate dinner at the nursing home too, roast beef + crappy 'whipped' potatoes and vegetabies + blueberry pie. It felt odd, seeing the sea of white hair and protruding bones and the tangle of wheelchairs. I was really hoping that no one would fall face first into their potatoes and be in the obituaries tomorrow. I would get all queasy and shaky. Nevermind me, how about family and friends and acquaintences!? I think I'm going to have a nap. Today was tiring, visiting and yelling and gardening (my random act of kindness for the day) and extended patience and straining to hear and decipher and just seeing ..my great grandma like that. Scary. Once you hit that point, it's all downhill. ..

So yes, my head is pounding and my eyes are sore. Thanks to the pollen and ragweed and whatever else that's floating around, my eyes have been dry and itchy and painful and I can't stop rubbing them. It almost feels like I plucked them out, dowsed them in gas and set them on fire, put them out with peroxide, stuck various pins and needles in, dropped them in the blender on high power, took a thin red pen &coloured them in, then finally left them to scorch in the desert for five months and eighteen days (no significance) and plopped them back in. Pain to the ninth degree.

At least I have a family to visit, and at least I have eyesight. I really shouldn't complain so much.

Hold your toungue Anne. I mean, Tesla.

love always, xo.

If i were a piano player, i'd play it in the goddamn closet.

listening to: the matches - chain me free.
condition: sore, out-of-shape.

I neglected this yesterday, mostly because I couldn't gather my thoughts and every time I pressed the apostrophe key on my mom's computer, the find thing would pop up. Extremely annoying. I didn't do much yesterday, babysitting went well, pirating went well and watching movies went well. The boys behaved, except I was late and felt so terrible. I set my alarm but didn't turn it on. Pro skillz right there. I still got there and paid though, and bought the snickers bar I've been craving forever. I downloaded loads from some new bananands I quite like, Halifax + The Matches + more from The Rocket Summer + IMA Robot. Thank you Band of the Day! It's nice to think that I know most of the bands that are featured on that website already. A pleasant feeling, no doubt. Lastly, movies. We watched Failure To Launch and Ultraviolet. The latter SUCKED, if I do say so myself, and the first one was okay. I don't know, I'm getting sick of that house and 'quality time'. I needed a break, and I got one, but maybe it just wasn't long enough. Who knows.

I'm going to visit my Baba today, at her old folks' home. That's Ukrainian for grandma, but she's really my great grandma. And she's not in the greatest shape. I don't really know what else to say except I hope she's well. Gahh..

At the beginning of the week I made a to-do list. (last post at the bottom of this page) The list goes as follows:

• start and finish laundry. DONE.
  
• wednesday: meet with steve at one, spend the day with steve. DONE.
  
• thursday: taryn's house, make cookies, possibly (hopefully) with maggie. ..NO.
  
• friday: wake up at taryn's house, go home at a reasonable time, relax. ..NO.
  
• weekend: undecided. DONE.
  
• finish resume. DONE.
  
• stop scratching mosquito bites. ..SORT OF.
  
• drop off resume. NO.
  
• make plans for next week. YES.
  
• go to bed at a reasonable time. ..NO.
  
• wake up at a reasonable time. ..NO.
  
• vacuum room. NO.

Well I suck. Oh well, I'll do the rest next week I guess. Which means, I SHOULD MAKE ANOTHER LIST!

• monday: finish cleaning, tidying and vacuuming room.
• tuesday: suntan (!?), dinner at grandma's with family.
• wednesday: print out and drop of resumes, job-hunt.
• thursday: chill, pirates of the caribbean two, taryn's house.
  
• friday: stampede!!, see our lady peace, have insane fun, kayla's house. (!?)
• saturday: trampoline! lolz. undecided.

Sounds like a plan to me. This week is so uneventful, now that I think about it. Hm. Who wants to do something this week on tuesday/wednesday? Oh come on, you know you want to. (L)

Alright. I'm going to get ready and pick some flowers and head on my way to see Baba. Then I'll be BACK, YO.

love always, xo.

is it natural? fabulous.

listening to: the strokes - new york city cops.
mood: beautiful!

I adore family relations.
I feel lanky, tall and strong.
I strongly dislike when people can't carry on a simple conversation and need to question everything I say.
I forgot how much I love the strokes. I forget, then I remember, and I love them so much more every time.
I wish someone would kiss me.
I think Key Lime Mereingue Pie is delicious.
I look naturally beautiful tonight.
I believe laughing is a miracle cure.
I needed tonight.


&
I got it.

repetition is good. repetition is good. repetition is good.

listening to: bright eyes - first day of my life.
mood: sleepy, content.

Good morning. It's been a while since I've actually seen morning light. You can't blame me, it's far too easy to just sleep the day away. I was supposed to go to the bank this morning, which is the only reason I'm up, to get myself an account. Unfortunately, the bank's closed until noon because of the Stampede Parade. What? Why!? It's a Goddamn PARADE, how exciting can it be? Some traditions blow me away. I'm baffled yet again to why I'm residing in Cowtown. Enlighten me.

So I was sitting on my couch this morning in a sleep-induced stupor, thinking about money. How many fingers have fondled a single coin? Impossible to calculate, and such an immense thought. And what about the floors and pockets and cash registers that they could call home, or the path that each one traveled on? And paper money. How many of my whatever dollar bills (lol, that's a joke by the way. I'm very broke at the moment) have been traded for drugs or sex? Has anyone famous or well-known touched my money? Remind me to sleep more when you see me next, my thoughts are so weird today. Probably because I only got 5 hours of sleep. I feel dead.

I'm finding it awfully difficult to find something to listen to lately. I just can't seem to settle on a song that I can stand. For example, last week I was walking home from somewhere I went. I can honestly say I wasn't in the best mood ever, and I was flipping through my Ipod in search of bearable music. Don't get me wrong, I love all of the music on Sarva Stu, but nothing felt right. "No, no, no. No, no. NO!! Nooo, no no no, no. eeh, maybe. ..no. Yes! ..no." Anyone listening to me would probably guess schizophrenia.

This song is terrible! Bright Eyes did a cover of Mushaboom by Feist, and it's just country-flaired groaning with the same tune. Ew. It is live though, i'll give him that. Hey, want to put a smile on my face? Thinking of an early Christmas Gift? It's an A Softer World book! I think I just might be in heaven. It would be a lovely coffee table book for my apartment, dontcha think? I think so too.

I'm ridiculously nosey, but that's another story for another day.

love always, xo.

imagination makes me hungry.

listening to: no doubt - simple kind of life
mood: tired.

I'd love to be somebody's one and only wife.

Someday, one day. In the future (WAY future) obviously. As much as I would love having lavish material things, silk robes and chandeliers dripping with diamonds, plush rugs and a architectural wonder of a chateau to call home, all I really want is a loyal husband. And a few kids. Maybe a cat. No, definitely a cat. It almost seems like Gwen sings straight from my mind sometimes, I only want a simple kind of life. Modest living, as the Pants Situation would put it. I guess it would be nice to have all of those things, but what's the point? More to dust.

If you'd advert your eyes to the man standing on your right, you will see a handsome young Norwegian lad by the name of Sondre Lerche. He is my recent obsession. I hope he doesn't blow up like every other band or musical artist that I discover on my own and gallantly share with everyone else. Many mistakes I've made, that's a fact. But Sondre..he's something special. Not only is he easy on the eyes, he can play quite the ballad and his voice isn't so bad either. Its simple to see why I love him so much. Or why anyone would. BACK OFF. Seriously though. I wish I could just find music, and selfishly and greedily hover over it. Mine mine mine. I won't argue if you accuse me of being possessive. I am, its a fact.

Changing gears again. I would love to run a lemonade stand again this year!

No. I'd rather not talk about that, there's really not much to say.

Apartments. I want one. Maybe not in the WAY future, I'm thinking more near future. I'll finish school, backpack across Europe, (you can't take a girl's dreams away from her, especially me. mine mine mine.) take classes at ACAD and eventually have an apartment of my own. Just a one-level flat, simple yet elegant. Simply elegant. I can picture it now, coming home from a long day of school and work, plopping down on my leather couch to check my messages. There would be tons of course, the usual from Mom checking in, the reminder from the video store to bring in my overdue rentals, maybe even one from whatshisface, inquiring about dinner and movie plans for next week. Depending on my day, I'd either order East Indian food from the place down the street or whip up a quick chicken quesadilla and pick at the rest of my Caesar salad from lunch. Depending on the season and weather (if it's Calgary, you really never know) I'd either boil water for tea and curl up under my comforting feather duvet (possibly a consolation present from whichever best friend I still talk to, hopefully any of them, keep in touch kids) or have a quick cool shower and sing a few ballads on my balcony to the ugly pidgeons, junkies and strict brick buildings which make up my neighborhood. Or, perhaps, I'd put on Two Way Monologues by Sondre Lerche and dance around my simply elegant home in a chartreuse tulle princess dress I constructed at ACAD as the majority of my final mark.

Oh Anne Shirley, what have you done to me?

love always, xo.

we are the vultures of pop culture.

listening to: no doubt - bathwater.
mood: ...weiiird.

I've been putting this off for the last two hours or so. I'm not exactly sure why, I guess I just couldn't concentrate. I have tons to say too, its foolish of me to start now. Oh well. I don't want to think of it as just 'getting it over with', but I'm going to plough through it anyway. Today has been awfully strange. I did some cleaning, some tidying, some re-arranging and some organizing, then my house got zapped by a merciless thunderstorm.

BOOM CRASH BANG ZAP ALAKAZAM.

&we were powerless for about forty-five minutes. I must admit, I was almost scared out of my skort when the fork lightning probably hit the transformer, I was on my computer (this one, in fact) and it just...stopped. The gentle hum of my modem snapped off, out like a light and my monitor faded to black. I jumped and joined my stepmom in 'holy crap!'ing the hell out of the moment. I journalled about it. It sounded like there were about five people walking about on my roof, joined by the vicious patter of millions of mice. Then, of course, there was the fresh aroma of fresh rain. Crisp, clean, cool. It would be divine if I could naturally possess that scent, it's attractive. If the rail and hail and God knows what else (acid maybe) wasn't coming down in buckets, I would've tossed on my heels and clip-clopped outside like I usually do. I just love the feeling of pressure, warm droplets of pressure, torrenting down upon me. Not only is it stress-relieving, it's refreshing. And wet. Today, while I was in the bathtub (stop reading if this will make you uncomfortable) I started to drain the bathwater and twisted into an oddly comfortable pretzel. Then I just let the bathwater drain, let it follow its natural course of suction and gravity. It took my stress with it, to be honest. Do you see the resemblance and/or am I crazy?

/inhale.

I started Anne Of Green Gables for the second time today, also in the bath. I love that room, eh? The bathroom. I spend so much time in there. Sure, it may be weird, but its true. Between leisurely lounging about in the tub, indulging in solid shampoos in the shower (for hours on end) and letting my stomach control my life, I don't have much time for anything else. Anyway, the book. I don't even remember when I read the book for the first time, but I remember enjoying it. Ouch. I just totally cracked my hand the wrong way. I understand the book more now, considering I can actually absorb dialogue and I have more knowledge (terms and dialect.) Anne's all-over-the-place way of thinking, high-spirited imagination and cheerful mannerisms put a fast smile on my face, and replaced my clouded thoughts with more optimistic ones. Thank you L.M. Montgomery. There isn't enough Lucy's in the world. Or places like Prince Edward Island. I would simply adore living there, especially because of the potatoes. Mmm.


My strange mood is all of a sudden gone, I feel drained. Not the good kind, the bathwater cleansing or rainwater washing kind, more like emotionally empty. Undecided whether it's a good thing or not.

when the spring is cold, where do robins go?

listening to: death cab for cutie - tiny vessels
mood: bored, itchy, sick

This song means so much to me. It's practically how I envision what everyone sees about me. Quite depressing, really. "She is beautiful, but she doesn't mean a thing to me"

I just got back from Steven's house, about fifteen minutes ago. It was boiling in my room with the window closed, so its open and the fan's blowing on my left side and I'm relaxed. Composed. Matt and Pat were there too. It was originally just supposed to be Steve and I, but i guess plans changed. We played video games and monopoly and ...raided his fridge. It was fun! I had fun. .. =)

I'm supposed to be calling people as references for my resume, but I honestly don't care. My parents are making this HUGE deal out of it, and its really not. Or at least it shouldn't be. It's extremely pissing me off. I want to ..GDHSLHKGSG. grr.

My sunburn is so bad. Well, that's an understatement. It's TERRIBLE. I can barely move. Thank God I didn't sunburn my fingers. At least my hair and makeup looked abfab. (L)

k I think thats enough for today. I'll go call some peepz to refer me and print this goddamn resume off.

love always. xo.

#3. snowflakes.

listening to: the subways - with you.
mood: unclean, passive.

hello.
I remember having a couple of these accounts once..
and I also remember writing an entry at erin's house, that one time I stayed there with mayme. That was ridiculously fun.
the only reason I made this was to reply to steve's entry.
but I guess I can use it and update it, like old times. oh my.

So I believe today is the third day of summer vacation. err, fifth. Third if you disregard weekends. (I'm trying to actually remember capitals and such, my internet lingo is terrible) I haven't really done much. Maggie came home on Thursday and Taryn and I threw her a party. That sounds strange, we 'threw' her a party..almost as if a party is an object. Anyway, that went well, I'm simply delighted that she's home. On Saturday I dogsat and inhabited a Hidden Valley home for the weekend, we bbq'd and I attempted to suntan. That goes for Sunday too. Monday, I traveled the northwest with Samm, hiking nose hill and picnicking on a huge cement building, then we laid back in Sandstone at Cody's house and soaked up the sun. Maybe a little more sun than I would've liked however, I got quite a burn. As for the mosquitoes, well. I wish they'd all drop dead. I have so many bites..ugh. Today, nothing. At all. My plan was laundry, and I really should be getting on that. My afternoon is wasting away in front of me. I wasn't feeling too hot when I woke up, at around 12:30, so I turned to this lovely computer of mine and I haven't moved since. I made a perfect can of soup and now I'm munching on Creamy Dill Old Dutch chips. Crystal painted the bathroom this really odd blue colour so I have to wait for it to completely set before I can have a shower..oh that will be SO nice. I can imagine it now...

Since I love them so much and just noticed the button, I'm going to make a list. A to-do list. Foor..this week.

• start and finish laundry. this means physically get up, gather all dirty laundry from floor, and put in washing machine. with soap. then wait for it to wash, and put in dryer. then wait for it to dry, take it out and fold it. then put it away.
• wednesday: meet with steve at one, spend the day with steve.
• thursday: taryn's house, make cookies, possibly (hopefully) with maggie.
  
• friday: wake up at taryn's house, go home at a reasonable time, relax.
• weekend: undecided.
• finish resume
• stop scratching mosquito bites
• drop off resume
• STOP SCRATCHING!!!
• make plans for next week
• go to bed at a reasonable time
• wake up at a reasonable time
• vacuum room

Tada! Now lets see if I actually follow through with any of these. I better. Oh man, these bites are killing me. I'll update this later, I guess. I obviously have a lot to do.

love always. xo.