and today i learned a lesson... that maybe i think too black and white sometimes... that things always arent as clear as even i would like to think sometimes. its comforting.

its 6:21 pm on a thursday night
i'm hammered
craving weezer and my warm bed
gotta pee
$1 beer... quarter football... too good, too good.

growing old
my grandpa's dying. he's in the hospital sick with no one knows what... my mom visited him and had to wear a gown and mask. she said he had lost a lot of weight and was really shaky. sometimes this whole being in montreal, disconnection thing has its drawbacks. even though my relationship with my grandpa hasn't been that great these past couple of years, i still wish i was there. he's been deteriorating for a while now i guess. it hasn't really possible for us to have a good relationship. but he has always been there, in the corner making silly remarks and going on tangents even after everyone in the room has stopped listening. my favourite memory is playing tiddly winks with him at sauble beach. i'm not sure how i'm going to react when he goes... but i know i don't feel too great now.

my parents are having "the talk" tomorrow. the divorce talk. the separation talk. i don't know how to react to that either. i'm relieved its finally happening. their relationship has been the undercurrent of my life for most of my teens and i've been expecting this to happen for years. but it doesn't make it any less sad. and talking to my mom... who sometimes is ok, but talks really fast and agitated about it. the phone isn't enough, never mind a phone call from work. my dad doesn't talk to me about it at all. its not his way to involve me in his life like that. i'm not sure what's going to happen from here... and again i am separated enough so that i can only imagine what everyone is going through. all i can do is try to decipher my mom's voice, my sister's fears, and my dad's silence. i always assumed my dad's silence meant he was fine. so i will always think he will be fine in the end. its my mom im worried about. ive wanted her to get out for a while now... she needs to. its like hitting her head against a brick wall living in that house. im just scared she wont know what to do without the comfort of the brick wall, as cold and hard as it is. i will be glad when this is all past us... we've all been stuck here for far too long... stuck in this limbo of happiness and tension... impressions and reality... hope and tears...

and sometimes, against my better judgment, i think back... and wonder if it had to happen this way.

strangers and knowing smiles
i think the title pretty much sums this entry up. let's just say it was the highlight of my day so far and i definitely blushed.

haiku for menstruation
bleeding makes me sad
it hurts to feel my body
blood is too honest

that whispering feeling
it has been raining for 2 days straight. im not sure if this is supposed to coninue tomorrow or the next day. alls i know is its created a very wet, misty atmosphere in montreal. i can't see the top of the hill or the giant cross that marks it. i can't see the tops of buildings or half of the city for that matter. being how montreal is situated, the water is constantly running down the mountain. the rain here seems to have more life than i ever remember it having in toronto. it is always flowing... streaming down... racing the cars down the roads... people actually stop and point at the mini-rivers snaking their way through the downtown streets. i feel like i'm river jumping to class.

and i must get my ass moving on this essay if i have any hope of making it to the jazz club tonight. yes, i said jazz club. cos im just that hip.

haiku
i curl up real tight
waiting for your arrival
the leaves tumble down

anticipation
i can hear your voice outside my window
i curl up in here
trying to create

skirts, coffee, and hyacinth blues
i am starting to realize that university just isn't school. this is me... living on my own. making my own decisions... owning every second of my time. this is my life. this is the start of it all. not that i wasn't living before this... but this, this is different. this is me branching out. this is me broadening my horizons. this is me realizing how to do things on my own. im figuring out how much is out there... how much i want to be a part of it all. how i am just starting to feel like a part of it all.

i can hear a car that just won't start. it sounds sad and dead. i hear the people trying to start it. its not working.
i think i was videotaped when i came off the elevator at my floor.
i dont even care.
its bedtime.
happy daylight savings time everybody.

ps. power hour ruins nights... but its a good way to spend that free hour.

how did you know i needed you?
i am in such a fucking good mood its not even funny. a good mood for no apparent reason. a genuinely good mood caused by hormones and other tiny things. and all that there is to do is sit here and dance to james brown and study social stratification.

you shook me all night long
jeanette - "I can't remember what he looks like." (speaking of a kid she met while drunk one night on my floor)
me - "jewish. he looks very jewish. like a character in the bible. or the torah. thats it. he looks like he stepped out of the fucking torah."
(later... same conversation)
jeanette - (dressed in old school baseball cap, staring at people in the caf) "now i feel like a real creepo in this hat." (all excited) "is that him?"
me - "not at all"
jeanette - "was he wearing a hat when i met him?"
me - "nah, that's his hair."

(later)
me - "the answer for one of my questions is UNDERWEAR. not wearing underwear meant people died earlier."
jeanette - "should i be concerned?"

(later still)
i come to jeanette's to print something off and she has only one sheet of paper. i need more than that so we grab exactly 5 sheets from her floormate. my printing job takes exactly 6 papers.
jeanette - "aw man. you cleaned me out."
me - "YOU ONLY HAD ONE SHEET!!!"
jeanette - "you still cleaned me out."

(right now)
currently we are dying of laughter.

and jeanette just confessed that her one sheet wasn't even hers.

i was just referred to as the girl with the crazy curly hair. while my hair is only partially curly and partially crazy... i'll take it.

the dream
to be penny lane. you know the one. almost famous.

to be her. to be free. to be the one that everyone falls in love with. to be the dreamer... to live in a counter-reality. to be beautiful. to follow your heart... to be reckless. to be yourself... to run away. to not care. to hurt yourself. to be out of touch. to be someone that everyone wants a piece of. to be your own reality. to be your own world.

my first
when people talk about their first relationship being the pattern for the rest of the relationships in their lives, it makes me laugh. my first relationship was in kindergarten. his name was justin and he used to get his older brothers to make me paper flowers. i think about justin probably more than i should. it was a funny thing. i was a funny girl. i hated justin more than ive ever hated anyone. i hated his love letters and the way he chased me around our playhouse. i hated that we were always the mom and dad in our playgames. i hated that i was mary and he was joseph in our class play. i hated that his mom was friends with my mom. but, for some reason, i still have each love letter he wrote me. i have the flowers he made. for the life of me i cant remember why i kept them then. but i know why i keep them now. i like the memory. i like the flowers. i like the letters. i miss justin.

this relationship puzzles me more than a lot of more intriguing things. i wonder why he was so forward... why he gave me flowers instead of throwing dirt at me like all the other boys did to the girls they liked. i wonder why his brothers made flowers for him to give to me. i wonder why i took so much care to keep the flowers intact. i wonder if i blushed. i wonder if i loved him. in the way only a kindergartner can. its one of those things i wish i could remember better. did i hate him? or just the teasing? perhaps if it was grade 7 things would have been different. poor justin. maybe he just came into my life a little before i was ready.

and yes, i know how silly i sound. but i dont care, dammit. this relationship interests me more than any other one probably will. lol. hear that justin? im not sure what you wanted from me then, but you sure get something from me now.

the setting
a small room, that becomes a better reflection of me each day... newly hung star-like things above my desk. ok, they're simply paper christmas decorations that i bought at ikea. hung on some borrowed yarn. the lights are all off... sitting here in my undies and a "vaginas are cool" tee... after a failed attempt at sleep.

the playlist
badly drawn boy - fall in a river
ben harper - by my side, not fire not ice, show me a little shame
eels - i write the b-sides
ella fitzgerald - someone to watch over me
jeff buckley - grace
kings of convenience - winning a battle, losing the war
nick drake - cello song

the story
im singing really softly to myself and it almost feels as if i can sing. the boys above are playing the same smashing pumpkins song as they did about five minutes ago. so maybe theres not much of a story here. not in the typical rising action, climax sense. just me. awake when so much of me wants to be asleep. trying to think of something good to say. perhaps trying not to think of certain things. wondering why some people... the people you sometimes really need to "get" you... simply weren't built to. and the blame game has been played countless times. shit has been thrown, picked up, and re-thrown. doors have been slammed, drinks have been downed. and still its there. still the only common ground we can find is not big enough for the both of us. and i wish that he was different, as i know he wishes i was too. and its hard sometimes. hard to justify being me. i know i shouldn't have to. but i want to justify it to him. i want him to accept certain things about me. things that aren't so bad. i want to show him that these conceptions he holds, they aren't true. im different than he thinks. and i really want the opportunity to be shown that he is different than what i think. but i know... i know he's not. just as im sure he knows im not. and sometimes you just get tired. sometimes you just have to flip the switch and stop caring. its taken me years to find this switch. but now, its easier... im halfway out. i just wish he would do the inevitable and cut me off now... save me the wait. im sure he knows its coming too. and im sure he will see it as my fault. and i can honestly say, i wont care. so maybe me cutting him off now... maybe this is it. maybe we wont talk again. its sad as all hell. but sometimes the people you didn't choose really are the ones you dont need. lets hope.

contrast this to thursday's mood
current influences include the royal tenenbaums soundtrack, my sexual ethics course pack, and coffee

i wish i had one of those egg chairs. i know that's not what they're called. but i know you know what im talking about. the round egglike things that you can sit in. and i would curl up in it and pull some curtains across the entrance. and maybe id just sleep for a really long time. all curled up and warm... surrounded by plushness. and i could stop worrying about socially constructed sexual identities and the likes of foucault.

this is so purdy. i want it.

oh jeanette
these would be the messages she sent to herself from my computer last night...

your gvr\eaT AND WWARING MYH CLOTHES

HDAHA

elastica, will you marry me?
i feel like letting loose, dancing really poorly, drinking a lot, smoking pot, fucking around, and generally having a smashing good time. my mood today has been most affected by trainspotting and elastica. quite possibly the best influences around.

but... i must sit here and read about sex. note, i said read about sex. not actually have it. which would be a lot more fun. reading about sex only reminds me that i am not having sex right now. therefore, this homework is both depressing, time-consuming, annoying, and it is hurting my self-esteem. both. lol.

is there something you lack,
when i'm flat on my back,
is there something that i can do for you?

late. right.
me - "so how was your weekend?"
floormate - "it was weird."
me - "i know eh."
floormate - "i thought things would be different."
me - "how so?"
floormate - "it was as if i never left."

that pretty much sums things up for me. i was thrown back into the exact same environment that i had left almost two months ago... and it was weird. i expected change. i expected to have missed lots and lots. but at least on the surface, things seemed exactly the same. in fact, deeper than the surface... things, in most cases, still were the same. so there i was... standing in my old shoes, the ones i had left behind, feeling slightly uncomfortable that they still fit the same.

perhaps thats why i was so eager to get back here... so i could feel as if i didn't just regress back into the place i had moved away from. i want to keep moving forward... not go back to the exact same spot. it scared me how easy it was to do just that.

what i'm spinning... a five song list for you
belle and sebastian - i love my car
fiona apple - never is a promise
nick drake - been smoking too long
the libertines - cola queen
pretty girls make graves - ghosts in the radio

of course its a high fidelity quote... could i be more typical
"i wanna date a musician./i wanna live with a musician. she'd write songs at home, and ask me what i thought of them, and maybe even include one of our private litte jokes in the liner notes./maybe a little picture of me in the liner notes./or just in the background somewhere..."

get gone
scarborough... here i come. i am scared to go home. and i feel horrid about it. i am retardedly excited about seeing everyone (esp. my mom)... but i am deathly afraid about what this trip will do to me. i want to know what home will feel like now. i want to know how i will feel in my old shoes. it seems forever since i've been home. it really does.

fucking go

charlie
i want to get you completely cocked.
i want to pour wine down your throat until you see
that in fact, you have never been drunk before
and that perhaps this is only the first thing you've been wrong about
i think if i could do this
you could be shaken off whatever pedestal you're on
you could fall down and be human
and maybe you could like it

it was just a paper bag

a different me
had a notion of the roads ahead
but was convinced that she could take each one
all at the same time
---
this me
today's me
is starting to see
that only one road will do

hunger hurts, but starving works

slam guy
every tuesdays and thursdays i get a reality beat-down. reality jumps in the ring with me and i dance around like a girl until it pounces and tenderizes me like a piece of meat. just when i think "hey, look at me in this ring... i belong here... im a fighter (gotta hate the reference to blondy mcslut chick)..." reality throws a mean uppercut and i am sent spiralling to the ground where i get to stare at the same bloody spot and wonder why i suck so much.

hek and hell
what bothers me about her... what has always bothered me about her... is her ability to read right through me. at least that's what i think she does. im not sure if she realizes it though. its because of this, i have always wanted to keep her close to me. but she has always wanted to get away. and it has always always bothered me. bothered me the way she doesn't want to be my friend the way that i want her to be. it annoys me the way she knows me so well and then doesn't want to be my friend. it bothered me the way i was on a pedestal for her... but a pedestal she seemed to run away from at top speeds. i feel like i was always at a place where she couldn't be... and i think she sensed that too, and just didnt try. not that i was on a pedestal... i was just a different life. and i don't think ive ever met anyone who could realize things like that the way she could. it angered me. it angered me that she wouldn't even try to be closer to me. i loved the way she looked past my bullshit. the way her stare made me feel naked... and i want her around more. i need to feel naked like that. i need more people around me that don't believe me. that make me feel empty... like a fake. and she knows it. but doesn't care.

i'd forgotten how nice new friends can be. once you start getting past the initial getting to know one another superficially stage. and you realize how nice it is that someone looks for you to say hi and wants you to stay and distract her from her reading. its nice to have someone to get cocked (yes, its my new word for hammered) with and laugh inanely. someone to babble drunken jibberish to. to say embarrassing things with and to be told her embarrassing stories. and the next morning we can laugh about our drunk talk and continue to laugh the rest of the day about our secrets... making others wonder what the hell is wrong with us.

its also funny how she just walked in my room and i had to close this really fast so she didn't think i was the biggest weirdo ever. she'll find out eventually. lol. actually, im sure she already knows.

red wine and photocopies
your face on the inside of my eyelids
a picture of a picture
is what remains infront of me
my empty bottle
the cd skipping
the images copied
i'm drowning in paper

is it wrong to actually be in love with your prof?
to want to know what she does when she goes home... how she behaves around her friends... what she wears to bed? (ok, not quite)

i know im creepy, but i like her. i want to be in her head. i want to know what it feels like to be her. to be so obviously a woman... to be so intelligent... to be so patient... to care about what we have to say... to intimidate in the best of senses.