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.