two words
hotbox closet.
yes. o yes.

and i
settling in
finding my headspace
giggling through soccer fields
trying to just be again
not sure
of what im doing
school is a front
for what is happening here
wishing i knew
why i felt this or that (why i care what i feel at all)
you've stopped missing me (im sure. but its ok.)
booty call yourself
thats not what i want
i dont like the games (im no good at being a girl)
i try. (im lazy)
i wouldnt know how to start over
im trying to just be
or im trying to figure out how to be (without you)
and theres this void that
i want to quickly fill
and im looking around
but i know
it doesnt work like that (i know.)
so im torn between missing you
wanting a quick replacement (because that's all it would be)
and figuring out if its possible (right now) to just
be me

today's highlights
- "he was like a greek god" ok, that was yesterday... but it continued to make me happy today. i didn't think actual people would ever describe someone as a greek god.

- "you look stoned" says the travel agent after my first attempt at a picture for my ISIC card... i kept the photo.

- "sam!" says steven... and we proceeded to high five by the ice cream freezer in the caf. it was silly.

- "luke, are you going home for rosh hashanah?" says me to the asian boy. (i've now begun to think that everyone is jewish)

- some girl in class proceeded to be the teacher for a good five minutes in her detailed analysis of a reading... mike turns to me and says "i was just gonna say that"

- somehow when people fall, it always reminds me of giraffes.

- if i was a photographer, i think i would take pictures of people falling.

penny lane
i have issues. i realized this as i sat listening to a boy talk about his. i watched him cry and ramble. and i could only picture me as the girl he talked about. the girl with the father that never treated her mother quite right. the girl that things happened to. the girl who did things that made her feel bad and wasn't sure why. the girl who often feels bad about herself because of what other people say to her. the girl who listens and cries when other people put her down. the girl that takes it to heart even though she pretends she doesn't. the girl that is perhaps a little broken. and i'm sure that you would have been that girl too, had you been there.

but all the while... i doubted him. i doubted his story. people say i'm perceptive. i can see things about people. i know people a little too well. i like to watch people. and while his tears were real... and his story good... it was off. and maybe it sounds cruel to you, but i can tell with these things. i was sucked into his story... because it was a good one. but i never stopped believing that it was just a story. maybe i almost saw it as real. i mean, he had me there... feeling sorry for myself. he said the right things. the things he probably know everyone feels. his story made me feel. but i doubt his intentions. and i doubt him. it was all too perfect.

if you're feeling sinister
i don't miss scarborough the way it seems some of the rest of the ward crew seem to. hm. i don't want to be back. i like it here just fine. scarborough ain't going anywhere. should i be missing scarborough? the thought of missing that place hasn't really crossed my mind. of course i miss people there... but that is altogether different from missing a place.

but i have to say, it is fun to be from the ghetto of toronto.

glue
my reading assignment is lying behind me on my bed... my highlighter (uncapped) is beside it. i am here. trying to figure out a fun way to explain the happenings of last night. let's do a point-form rundown. 1, 2, 3, GO.
- got hammered in jeanette's room with her and kira and listened to ace of base.

- had our own version of the "lady marmalade" video. scary.

- walked to our frosh leaders' house and went into a room full of strangers.

- found them and got the tour and they even remembered our names... they actually seemed happy that we weren't too intimidated to come (we were too intimidated... but when has that stopped us yet?)

- we played scrabble. interesting fact... the first three words on the board were, "sex, ass, and oprah" (it turned to shit after that)

- played jenga and i lost both times. i suck shit at that game when im drunk.

- drank out of a stranger's beer without permission. someone handed me a half empty beer (not even theirs... it was sitting on the table) and i finished it. (note to self: this seems to be a new trend in my life... drinking random drinks because i am so hammered and my only thought is MORE MORE. also seems to be one step closer to having an actual problem...)

- made a drunken decision to move in with kira and jeanette next year. lol.

- we all got invited to another party next weekend. we'll see if that actually happens.

- also interesting to note that the people we hung out with (ie sang ace of base to, played scrabble with, and generally made fools of ourselves around) at this party were the very same ones that during frosh, we drew animals on their arms and penises on their backs. they must think we are the coolest people ever. *cough*

- right. there's more. we went to celine dion's restaurant for poutine. the waiter laughed at us because we finished 2 plates in 2 minutes tops. meh. and then i bitched and whined until the other 2 gave in and we cabbed it home.

- i heart university

if only they knew
sometimes i think people under-estimate my levels of insanity. that's right. like right now. above me... a sweet boy named ben is blasting snoop doggy dogg so loud that i am forced to get my groove on instead of reading about liberal feminism. now, i like a good groove as much as the next white, middle-class girl does... but i am starting to get annoyed. here is where he underestimates me. little does he know that i am down here plotting a way to shoot him in the face. i have no gun. but i am sure i can construct some sort of face-shooter from the random articles strewn across my room.

idea #1 - incense. i could burn his eyes out. not quite the same as shooting though
idea #2 - i could go upstairs and request that he turns up his music so that his room explodes. again, this is not exactly the same as shooting him in the face.
idea #3 - i could steal some extra peas from the cafeteria and follow him around all day tomorrow throwing peas at him, one at a time. i will not say anything and his protests and laughter will not affect me in the least. this last one seems like the best alternative to a gunshot to the face. besides, no one eats those peas anyways. the bonus to this is i get to improve my pea-shooting skills and maybe over time, i can get so good that a peashot from me will infact feel like a bullet to the face. good call me.

owch. my head.

the anti-aircraft rifle romance
i keep waiting for the moment to come when i realize that i am exactly like my father. that the only reason i push him away as much as i do is because his
likeness to me is the one thing in this world that truly scares me.

fuck. fire alarm. what would be the harm in me just staying here?

feeling restless
another late night (ok, its really not that late... but considering i have done not much of anything since around 7 and i have to wake up for classes... it feels fucking late). am i studying hard? nope. have i left rez since dinner? nope. am i at least drinking here on some floor party? none tonight. so why am i awake? what exactly am i doing... good question. i think its answered by the title up there. im so incredibly restless its ridiculous. i sit here and feel like something is wrong but don't exactly know how to fix it. and i can't sleep. and i feel caged in this room.

i will try to find my escape in douglas coupland's world.

why men/boys are fun
i was at the gym today (o yes, o yes) and i was one of maybe 3 girls compared to at least 12 guys. this is actually irrelevant to point out. but anyways, i swear some of the males there did not even touch a machine/weight/anything. they walked around all puffed up and stared at their muscular progress in the mirror. it actually made me giggle out loud to watch one guy roll up his sleeves and check out his chest in the mirror. i mean... honestly. i had never been to a public gym before and i was so taken aback to realize that the stereotypes are true. i love how things like that continually surprise me. it really is how everyone says it is.

but i guess i shouldn't talk. i often spend ridiculous amounts of time just poking my tummy fat and jiggling my thighs.

sidenote: "thigh" is a really gross word. it seems so meaty and gross. i hate thigh. EW.

i can only lie to myself for so long.

i can only pretend for a little while. before it all smacks me in the face. before i am forced to really consider the implications of what's been said. of what i cleared the way for. of what i am prepared to let go of. and whether i am really that well prepared at all.

End of the pier, end of the bay
You tug my arm, and say : "Give in to lust,
Give up to lust, oh heaven knows we'll
Soon be dust ... "

everything in its right place
i woke up with my head pounding and my mind in a state of confusion. how did i end up back home... what did i do... why is my hair wet? my floor felt empty when i went to the washroom. i couldn't get back to sleep because images of last night kept flashing through my head. i remember rambling hardcore to various people.

i remember being in a fountain. and encouraging a man to ride his bike in the fountain (which he did). i talked to a stranger from england about new york and toronto. i babbled to people about my issues which is never a good idea when you don't know these people very well at all.

i poured myself some cereal just now and then i forgot about it. its sitting here. soggy. like me. i was at someone's house and people were playing pool. i found my jack white and probably proposed to him or something. i will be very embarrassed about that in class on tuesday. i remember being jealous because he asked about this girl in our class. i'm still jealous.

my leg hurts like a son of a bitch. im listening to really bad messages left to me last night. im also listening to thom yorke. charlie, i didn't have that moment before i went to sleep last night. you were wrong about me. i had it this morning. does that still count? or am i still dead?

last night was good. i think. this morning... not so much so.

nothing here is real
i've decided.
everything that happens here is fake. this isn't life. this is a break from life. this is a way to remove yourself from everything that is actually real. this is a time to be someone else. to do things that don't matter. to not care. this is not what my parents would be wanting me to say about university.

or maybe im just hammered. maybe.

but even i would sometimes

the sexy, ice-pick-wielding bisexual
lying on my bed, having just finished a reading for my sexual ethics class, i stared at my ceiling (university is exciting like this)... and thought to myself, "i wish i had a line of coke to do"

girl, there is you and then there is your body
what it means to be a girl. (this is blunt for me... no flowery language)
- i wake up and look at myself in the mirror

- i shower and shave and each time i shave i somehow feel like i shouldn't have to. but am too chicken. too cool.

- i put on make-up and feel good. then this idea makes me feel bad.

- i put on fun jewellry and that always makes me feel good. i love the way girls get to adorn themselves in a way that guys just aren't culturally allowed to.

- somedays i get hollered at... in a sick way, this makes me feel good. this makes me feel bad about myself. but the times the hollers make me angry... volatile... these times i feel good about my reaction. i feel powerful. actually, either way... i feel powerful.

- i look at other girls a lot. i try to figure out how to imitate them. or how to avoid looking like them (so what, im horrible).

- i get to feel grossed out by my period. i get to learn that it is a gross thing from peers... i get to perpetuate these feelings by voicing the same sentiments with groups of people. this makes me feel bad. my vagina gets sad. its sad that something so biologically natural about my body grosses me... and everyone else out. i feel like i gross people out.

- i get to try and figure boys out. i get to be wrong most of the time.

- i get to listen to the things boys say about the other girls. i get to learn how easy it is for a boy to place a girl in a certain category. i get to wondering what they think about me. i feel happy when they say mean things about other girls... because they are not saying these things about me. this makes me feel bad too.

- i sit in rooms where people analyze the bodies and faces of celebrities. her nose, her hips, her breasts... and each time they name a body part i place a chunk of myself up to scrutiny in comparison with said celebrity. when i do not measure up... i feel bad. when i do measure up... i feel good.

- i fall in love with female cultural stereotypes... the bitch who doesn't care. the girl next door. the raging lesbian feminist. the mod girl. the hippie girl. the femme fatale. the mysterious vixen. i want to be one of them. i want to be all of them. i want a category... i want a stereotype.

- i sometimes try to retort to something sexist. i always sound silly. so most of the time i just don't respond.

- when i complain about something... and then "he" (the generic he that teases and pokes fun with sexual compliments) says "you like it." he's right, i do. i hate that i like it. but i hate even more that "he" knows it.

- i love myself and make myself sick at the same time. my days are filled with conflicting emotions.

but im sure you knew most of that already.

you ain't seen nothing till you're down and you're rotten
you ain't got nothin till you hit rock bottom
aw yea

breeders
few situations make me want kids. few situations elicit that sort of maternal instinct that is supposedly inherent in me. i like kids just fine. as long as they are conveniently not mine. as long as i can view them the way i view zoo animals. lots of people want monkeys and tigers and exotic animals. but they don't actually WANT them.

it is the times when i see kids running around... standing shakily smiling at something no one can see... rolling around on each other giggling inanely... playing on things that no one else would ever think could be an object of play... its these times that make me want kids. perhaps people have kids to be a part of childhood again. this is the first reason i have ever thought of that could validate me having kids. i could see how having kids could allow you to be a part of something different. it connects you in a way nothing else could to childhood... and all the beautiful things about it that the rest of us lock away once we grow up. still, it is a selfish reason to have kids. to use them as a key to a place we are now locked out of. i dunno. maybe im just analyzing things too much. overanalyzing would be the word i was looking for.

either way, i felt like breeding today.

i wish:
- laundry did itself
- people wore instruction manuals around their necks
- someone would write me an instruction manual for me... i wish someone COULD write an instruction manual for me
- some nights i could control the sky and the clouds and the moon... i could arrange the stars as i saw fit...
- i wasn't so far away from some people
- i captivated people the way they captivate me
- that i could walk into a room and make people nervous
- my history was written all over my body so that there would be no need to explain my past to anyone i met
- you could write on me and create my history
- i had more alone time.
- i did not have this jennifer lopez song stuck in my head

i think i may have shut off my emotions
is that possible? i am sitting here reading blogs that are wonderfully written and interesting... and i can remember that i used to blog about things that meant more than how my day went. but all i can do now is draw blanks. the only thing i can attribute this to is the changes. the way that since june started... i have been bustling from one house to another... one suburb to a city to another... the missing that has been going on... the family turmoil... the stress... the strange happenings of the past couple of months... have required me to turn off my emotions to a point. i am easily affected by situations around me and am often unable to deal with my emotions. i turn them off by sleeping and by drinking and by not listening to any sort of music that makes me feel anything at all. this last one... the lack of music in my life as of late... is probably a big cause of my lack of inspiration. i won't turn on the music that i love because it is the music that will reach down and force me to feel.

i'm so afraid to feel because i am sure that all i will feel is sad. not that i am only sad... just that there are a lot of feelings that i am refusing to deal with. a lot of feelings that i didn't deal with this summer. emotional backlog, i guess. i should really get to cleaning that up.

whoever decided to put montreal on a hill, should die
that negativity aside... there is something completely romantic about the mcgill campus. there is something romantic about university in general. as i was walking through campus today... it was bustling with people going to classes, coming from classes, sleeping on the lawn, playing soccer on the field, reading under trees... it was crazy. i felt lucky. lucky and wide-eyed. its strange to think of myself as now a part of this environment.

my classes today seemed good. the first one on feminist theory seems really interesting and the material looks good... but the prof is a monotone, pacing, not fun at all... machine. but i figure if the course is good enough, it shouldn't matter too much... right? lol. i only realized how crappy she was when i got to my sexual ethics class. this prof was more of an actual person. this class looks like its gonna be a lot of fun. and so far... the books are not uber expensive... which is a plus. enough about school... i need a nap.

jeanette sucks with macaroni
its true. she managed to burn it, make it soggy, and somehow remove all taste. she's a master. and i'm sicky. poppin the vitamin cand drinking the water. frosh is over and classes start tomorrow. i woke up to sounds of the girls' soccer team practicing outside my window. i got a little sad that i didn't try out... maybe next year... if i get into shape that is.

highway to hell... im tired. must go buy some stamps and envelopes. i'm going down.....

so here i am. in a new city. starting a new stage in life. potentially becoming a new person. and i have shit all to talk about. i am perhaps the most boring writer in the history of the universe right now. i blame frosh. but really, i haven't had anything good to write about it a really long time.

everyone i meet reminds me of someone i went to high school with. i have a feeling this will persist for the rest of my life. i mean, high school contained all the typical stereotypes. and when you first meet someone, it is almost a reflex to put them in some sort of box. and the shapes of my boxes are actually the people i met in high school. dah.

i hate making friends. i fucking hate it. i hate being uncomfortable. i hate stupid chitchatting bullshit but we have to talk because silence is uncomfortable. i hate the fake smiles i hate the cliques people have already begun to form... i hate high school mindsets. i hate the feeling that i have to impress people. be loud and nice and hip all at once. when really i'm just tired. i dunno. i want to meet some REAL people. is that too much to ask?