i'm gonna marry this here man. lol.

o yea
i think people need to stop telling me... "you're so grown up"
if they only knew.

i'm sorry that all i talk about is moving out and finishing school
so i saw my place yesterday. and its not a shithole or a scary place. it is nice. it is perfect. it is exactly what i pictured it would be. but it did not feel like mine. it felt like i was visiting. it feels like i will just be visiting for the next few months. i'm timid when it comes to figuring out what to do with the space... simply because it doesn't seem like my space. it's jen and amanda's. i'm just stopping by. they already have people lined up to replace me. and i know its only logical that they would... but it bothers me just the same.

i'm headed down this afternoon to do some cleaning in my room. i will be there by myself and i'm hoping it will feel more like mine. but i think i know it won't. and all i wanted this summer was my own space. but already... this feels like just another place that someone owns. someone who is not me. another place i am making my home. but a place that is someone else's house. (my dad's favourite phrase: "this may be your home, but it's my house.")

don't get me wrong. i'm not complaining. its a nice little box to inhabit. and i'm happy. just wishing it felt more like mine. but then... how can something that really isn't mine... feel like it is?

what i've learned today (so far)
- a day started even with the best intentions of getting some calculus done... can go horribly wrong... in the best of ways
- the connection between placenta, fetus, and umbilical cord
- friends with cars that understand cravings for starbuck's caramel frappacinos (only 500 calories per gulp) are the greatest friends ever
- friends with cars are also horrid, horrid (sidenote: i really enjoy the word horrid) people because they take me away from school and work
- taking/waiting for the bus just becomes so much better in warm weather with a good book
- i made the right choice as far as universities go
- my resume sucks ass.
- i am going to be ok.

i NEED to go do calculus now... just wanted to spread some love. and tell you all... and myself... that i'm good.

ps. everyone must pray that i find a job... even with my crapfest of a resume.

i suck
i'm extremely deflated and unresponsive. all i can figure out is that its got to be due to everything going on around me all at once. its because i feel like i should be done school but still have these 5 fucking units to do. and i have no energy to do them... which stresses me out even more. i'm worried that i won't finish them simply because i don't have the will power anymore.

(sidenote: i'm tired of watching this tampax commercial in which this dumb bitch's boyfriend shakes her tampon as if it were a sugar package. who the fuck looks at a tampon and mistakes it for sugar? no matter how pretty the package is... it's not sugar. it's a wad of cotton made for shoving up vaginas and absorbing uterus lining. and someone needs to fill the boy in. second, he's on a fucking DIET? my god. i hate tampon commercials. if i had a tampon commercial it would go as such... "see this? stick it up there. it works real good." CUT. that is all that needs to be said. no giggling girls playing sports poorly or stupid boyfriends who have apparently never heard of periods. no one giggles when they put tampons in. no one likes playing sports while they're bleeding. no one wants a boyfriend that they have to explain periods to. i want raw truth here.)

i don't think this blah feeling is going away until i finish these units. and that makes me sad. because all i feel like doing right now is wrapping myself up in blankets and sleeping for a very long time.

my hectic, possibly most stressful to do list yet
finish my damn calculus course... hence finishing high school
pack up clothes, mattress, and lamp for moving day
pick a moving day
go shopping at shoppers to scam discounts (woo jeanette) on such things as feminine products, shampoo, razors... things that i forget i need because i've never had to buy them before
send in some stupid form to get a quebec student number
quit my lovely relaxing cafe job... which has been ruined by new bitchy, big-necked, hot dog cart lovin' boss *shudder*
find a new, hip job downtown
if that fails... find any sort of job downtown NOW

wow. i'm stressed. i've got loose ends everywhere that need tying. and if you know me, you know that i am horrible at multi-tasking. well, i'm obsessive when i know something needs doing but i am unable to do it NOW. i want high school to be done with. i want to close that book and i'mthisclose to doing just that. i want to move out with minimal sentimentality from family. i know that's horrible... but i can't deal with any more emotions. my bucket is full as it is. keep your feelings away from me! ah. i'm kidding.

everything's just really exciting when i think about it.

someone hold my hand
so i sent it. $900 dollars deposited. room reservation completed. i'm happy, right? then why am i crying? why am i scared out of my mind? why did i regret it as soon as i clicked it? why do i not know what i'm doing... why am i so terrified of these decisions... why am i fucking crying? i am so horrible with change. its easy to say that yes, i'm going to mcgill. but to actually do it... it scares me. i can't stop saying that. i'm scared. i'm scared. i'm scared i made the wrong choice. i'm scared i will hate it. i'm scared that my parents will hate me for it. i'm scared that i will lose the people i don't want to. i'm scared that i won't meet anyone i will ever be afraid of losing. i'm scared of being me right now. i'm scared that the things i'm running away from are not sufficient reasons to be running away. i'm scared that i won't be able to do this. i'm scared of being a different person. i'm scared i won't be able to write another sentence ever again that doesn't start with "i'm scared".

goddammit, i hate this. i hate it and i love it. but i can't help regretting everything as soon as its decided. someone encourage me. someone love me. someone pretend that things aren't going to change. someone else assure me that they will, but only for the better. i suck. muchos.

i'm obsessed with... (right now)
motivated people. people who do things and love what they do... and do it well
rollerblading
the sun
hair
the prospect of a carefree summer
getting out of my house and pretending that i am not the sister of an over-achiever
being bitter towards my over-achieving sister and the cheerleader of a father
sleeping (this is a constant)
dreaming
kissing
feeling my hair against my bare back
coffee and blueberry cheesecake
my lower back fat

fall in a river
my hair is reminiscent of tina turner and anyone that watched friends last night will have a better idea. ah i love that i have inside jokes with other people who watch friends... hahaha no. i really don't actually. BUT, i am completely content with my big hair and my grampa sweater with the ever-growing hole in the shoulder.

i smell sea food. funny. i want to go to the east coast. and stand in the wind. on a hill of rocks that i remember from childhood. i remember a carving of people in the rocks as well. i hope these memories are not my mind playing tricks on me. i want this mystical hill to exist. i want to stand on this hill and have the wind blow through my tangle of hair. i want to giggle to myself and enjoy the feeling of the wind moving me about. then i want to go home to find sand stuck in the mess. this is what i feel like right now.

give me inspiration.

i never post.
i must be busy or something... rrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiight.

so i'm looking for housing for the summer. its weird. and for some reason behind every "marc," "debra," or "holly," i see a rapist, molester, or psychopath with a foot fetish. i don't know if i can do this. someone tell me i can. someone convince me that yes, i can call these numbers. yes... i can sound like i know what a lease is... yes, i will be able to trek downtown to see these rooms that they want me to pay them for. i dunno. i'm starting to give up on this group house that a bunch of ppl i know are trying to get going. i'm thinking i might do better on my own. if better means getting stuck in something... RAT INFESTED, HAUNTED, RIGHT NEXT TO THAT AX MURDERER, SLEEPING IN THE ROOM ABOVE THAT CREEP-O AT THE BUS STOP... ONLY MINUTES FROM SHOPPING AND TTC. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

and my big ice cube of faith in the human race just got another chip in it. someone stole the tape recorder installed in my artwork thing. yea. i just wanted to cry. not because i cared all that much about the tape recorder... but because i was angry. angry that my piece is incomplete. angry that someone doesn't care.

on a brighter note... i woke up happy today. not that i usually wake up miserable... i actually usually wake up slightly jaded/unresponsive. but not today.
and that deserves a gold star.

this was a turd of a post.

i didn't think we'd be out here on our own
maybe we should just go home

if i had something to say... i'd say it.
(just insert that stupid empty noise we all make in our heads some nights.)

*pout*
i wish that the thoughts that feel so wonderful and full-bodied in my head... actually were. i wish i was better at making art. better at creative things. make me better.

i'm frustrated.

i dream of tornados
wrap me in a red flannel blanket
i want it to scratch ever so lightly against my bare skin
i want to become just another fold in its being
my body will disappear in the fabric
i will mold to it
i will hide there
for as long as i please
the seasons will change
leaves falling and sun setting
me evolving
quietly in my blanket
you won't notice me now
you will have forgotten my scarlet lump of flesh
and then it will happen
i will throw the blanket off of me
my skin will gleam
and i will smile
in the wrinkled eyed, wiser than you way
i will throw my head towards the sky (or what's left of it)
and i will laugh
just before i walk away
sui juris.

printer-friendly version
i like playing soccer. i don't like playing in the weather that we had today. my legs were frozen, wet, and numb. it hurt to kick because my foot was sopping and the ball was filled with water. my sweater and 3 layers were soaked through. i must have weighed 40 pounds more than usual. at some points the rain felt more like icy shards of glass. the wind rocked me. the soccer was horrible most of the time. actually playing seemed worse than pointless. but... we played. i played. i toughed it out. i scored. i passed. i ran. i felt silly at times. like someone was having a right jolly ol' laugh at our expense. hell, i was laughing at times. but there's a resiliency in this story. when i looked around... at the team... at my friends... playing... it was nice. i like that we... that i can do that. and i think people take for granted the mental toughness that is required in simple situations like this. to survive 90 minutes of that... when most people are laughing... wondering why the hell anyone would put themselves through that for a stupid school soccer team... its something. and i like that i can do it. its a small battle... but i like to win.

i'm a high school lover
and you're my favourite flavour

i don't sleep as well when i'm in your bed. i wake up multiple times during the night. you don't have a comforter. i worry that perhaps your loft bed will not hold the both of us or that i will sleep ugly. but, there's something about getting used to sharing a bed with someone... that is just wonderful. i actually like getting less sleep. i like not being completely comfortable. i'm not uncomfortable either. its odd. i like that i wake up and see you beside me. i like that i don't just pass out and wake up as if i were in my own bed. i like the differences. how can i explain? i'm sure you know. its about learning to be... just be... with someone else. its about sharing a space... (a space that i'm used to having all to myself...) and attempting to integrate another breathing, living being into that space. its a strange, new kind of sleeping... and i like it.

perhaps, in ways... i hope i never get completely comfortable. does that make sense?

window pane count: 5

nesting
i feel like i'm brooding (not sure if this is the correct context, but i'm going with it). i drive around and my eye is constantly distracted by the junk that other people are throwing out. i see a couch or a chair or a table and for split seconds think about stopping and collecting all of this furniture. i then realize i cannot carry a couch by myself. i do not have anywhere to put a couch. so why do i do this? i've been thinking that were i to move out right now... i would have nothing. i have a bed. and some furniture that i would feel more comfortable leaving here. i don't have anything of my own. so i brood and have random urges to take everyone's trashy furniture. build a safe, cheap, nest... by myself, for myself.

i think its this way with most things right now. i'm building myself for something. i can feel it. for some challenge that i feel is just around the corner. i am trying to figure out the things/skills i will need to make it through. yes, i am slightly confused. after all, my neighbours ratty leather chair is obviously not what will get me through the challenge. but i can't help it.

so all i've actually collected is window panes. because i think they are beautiful. all of them are cream coloured but old, and paint chipped. i have 4 so i think i can call it a collection now. i must have completely freaked jeanette out when i saw 2 sitting on the side of the road... screeched... and made her shove them in the back of my van. i'm not sure why i need 4 window panes. yes, maybe my neighbours ratty leather chair would be more practical. but for some reason these window panes make me incredibly happy. yes, its illogical. but i think i'd be one of those stupid birds that would make her nest out of that pink house insulation goo. and then just when it was time to settle down, i'd realize it was toxic and not fit for a nest at all.

i make no sense. try to keep up.