it seems to me that maybe... it pretty much always means no
and sometimes i need to lock my door. and have a cry. sometimes i will. i might also be craving my mom. a hug from her. maybe. i am feeling drained. maybe i am confused. i am sad. maybe. i dont want to grow up. i dont want to make the choices that it feels i have to. i dont like that i have to make certain choices. when all i want sometimes is to have it all figured out. i keep thinking that "if" something were so... "if" i were different in this way... then perhaps things would be different. perhaps i wouldn't be here like this right now...
curled up in my chair.
tears drying on my face.
tired.

my mind is filled with silvery stars
i cant sleep... and it sounds as if the guy above me is dragging around a dead body. if i cared terribly i would go up and make sure hes not having a seizure or something. but as i obviously dont care... i will sit here and listen to my "i can't sleep" playlist. it is making me sad. and i hate getting sad and emotional at 3 in the morning when all i want to do is sleep. sometimes i wish emotions would just go away so i could get some rest. you know? im sure you do know.

sopie b. hawkins - damn, i wish i was your lover
the velvet undergroun - pale blue eyes
wilco - radio cure
rainer maria - the awful truth of loving
neko case - porchlight
cat power - i dont blame you
air - playground love
badly drawn boy - this song

step into my office, baby
as the first real snow falls in montreal, i sit in my cozy room in my big sweater... looking forward to winter. i have a sense about this winter. its going to be a good hibernation period for me. i'm looking forward to the cold this year. or maybe i'm just looking forward to the way warmth feels when its cold outside. does that make sense?

i can still feel the alcohol and the drums
as i stared at his pedals right infront of me, i watched him move his foot and press them each at their specific and planned times... i felt very fulfilled. very whole. everything seemed to make sense as i watched these pedals. there was something very pleasing about their shapes and the way they were arranged. i got such pleasure from just staring at them... and he played the song i wanted... last... i danced and sang... and i lost the ticket stub. i hate that. i lost the proof that i witnessed it all. that i danced. that i saw the pedals, and perhaps spent too much time contemplating how sound they made me feel.

this drug's for you
isn't it weird the way a song can dig into your memory? the way a song can bring back a taste... a smell... every distinct detail of a scene, a day, even a year. the way it can make me feel a different temperature. it reminds me of summer. flowing clothes. early morning. muffin. flip flops. waking up. queen street. walking fast. checking myself out in the store windows. smiling at the familiar bums, and even familiar people. its weird the way i felt more connected to people downtown then i ever did in my scarborough neighbourhood. you get to know other people's schedules, and get concerned when you don't see these familiar strangers.
we're gonna make it on our own, don't need anyone
lord knows we don't need you

nude
sometimes girls just fucking own. lol. sometimes sitting and talking with a bunch of girls just seems to make everything better. don't get me wrong, im no huge fan of big groups of girls... but... sometimes being in one is therapeutic. im sure we could analyze the shit out of that... but yea.

this morning's playlist
blur - beetlebum
the velvet underground - stephanie says
marvin gaye - let's get it on
bob marley - is this love
sloan - rest of my life
jane's addiction - jane says

(sometimes shuffle just seems to know the mood i'm in)

i get stuck between all the things i mean, but i don't think i mean much anyway
i think i figured it out. there is this feeling i miss. its something i just realized that i don't get here. its not a specific emotion or anything... more a certain combination of emotions. let me try and explain through examples.

the days i used to feel so introverted and get on the subway to wander around downtown. i would smile at lots of people and walk with my head low swinging my bag. sometimes i would bring a book to read... but usually i would do absolutely nothing except be somewhere different. get out of my own head. and then i would come home to a warm dinner and a bantering family. and i liked the contrast between the two.

or the days i would feel inspired and drive to market village to buy paint and canvas from curries. i would take the long way and drive through markham with the windows rolled down and some sort of music blasting. i would often sing outloud and laugh to myself. i might dress a little different than i normally would. i would pull on the skirt from the back of my closet saved especially for days when i didn't want to feel the same. and this trip would leave me refreshed.

i miss working. driving to work blasting the white stripes. having coffee with the friends who always dropped by and made me feel loved. i miss locking up and sweeping with something loud blaring through the cafe. maybe something lonely. i miss walking out to my car and driving out of cornell. i miss how my hands used to smell like coffee grinds for the rest of the night, and sometimes even the next day.

i miss the feeling of shutting off. of being able to drive somewhere... of submersing myself in work... i dont know. maybe this is homesickness.

she had it coming
i was talking to one of my floormates today and she was feeling really homesick this past week. she was telling me how she called her mom everyday and she was crying because she wanted to be home so badly... and i simply couldn't relate. i tried really hard to imagine being that homesick... the only way i could feel something as close to what she was describing was when i remember the way sometimes i just ache. for no apparent reason. and i fiddle around on my computer to try to make it go away... and i pick at things in my room... i try to distract myself by walking around... and the aching persists. only, im not exactly sure what i ache for. im pretty sure its not home... this feels like home to me. i think sometimes its just a lonely ache. im sure you know the kind... the only way to describe it is lonely. not the lonely that we are most used to using... im not alone here at all. and i don't feel like i dont have handfulls of people that are there for me. i do. but this is not what the ache is about. ive been going to bed with this ache these past two nights... often other nights as well.

its pretty poo crap.

i'm not sure if i can keep doing this.

why am i telling you this? (aka there's no point in reading this)
i am feeling so distracted its not even funny. it is taking me forever to write this paper. and i like the topic. i should be able to just ramble it off... but its not happening. i keep finding something to distract myself with. i am done with this semester. it is finished in my head. if only i could shit out the rest of the work. that would be special of me.

sometimes i think it might just be easier to say goodbye completely. after all, you have to say goodbye in order to meet again later... right?

i'm gonna be like elvis
i'm feeling profoud. i blame the wine. wednesday has become official wine night on my floor. i have no objections. things are getting way stressful here... wine was definitely needed.
let's get famous tonight

the countdown
14 days
4 papers
woo oo oooo

haiku
messy messy room
i hate you my messy room
please clean yourself up

just because
jezebel smoked cigarettes. like someone who didn't smoke. she danced in parked cars and sometimes sniffed glue. i guess she never grew out of that phase. her socks never matched and her hair was all wrong. she liked to read stories about horrific accidents. sometimes she would sneak away just so she could time how long it would take for someone to come looking for her. once, no one came. she stopped sneaking away after that. when no one cares, its not sneaky.

haiku (for when you're feeling sinister)
the whole time you watched
as i carved into my skin
the words that you mouthed

i'm so tired, so tired
i've lost all motivation to read articles... write papers... show up to lectures... be awake even. something about myself is really pissing me off and as of yesterday when i got home, all i've wanted to do is sleep. i really can't stand myself right now.

take it or leave it
sometimes i feel like im missing out on a world i want to be a part of. we know too much. we can rationalize away most anything. ever wonder what it would have been like to live in a time when people saw the moon as something mystical? saw it as something controlling and majestic... instead of something figured out. a world that didnt take the moon for granted...

what a waster, what a fucking waster
when she wakes up in the morning
she writes down all her dreams
reads like the book of revelations
or the beano or the unabridged ulysses

oh I really wanna know
so tell me, where does all the money go
where does all the money go
straight, straight up her nose

eros
something about them makes me long
in the sad, romantic way that i should know better than to fall for
the easy way they lie
legs wrapped like branches
arms circling
bodies pressing
a private sphere; that couch is their own
in the midst of so much that isn't
her face buried in his chest
he sleeps the way everyone likes to imagine they sleep
unsexual in their touch
(my favourite part)
but erotic in the purity
and me
sitting alone staring
and wondering why i can't stop

and in the dark we will take off our clothes
i miss being naked infront of someone. somehow being naked alone just isn't the same. i need the validation that i am actually naked. i need someone else to see it. to validate me. to assure me of my material self. that my body is there. i need to be around someone and feel ashamed again. i need to feel vulnerable and pale and fat and skinny and imperfect and beautiful and different and watched. i want to wish the lights were off and i want to hide myself as subtly as possible. i want to pretend im comfortable. i want to remember what it was like when i did feel comfortable. i want eyes on me. assuring me that my body is here. that it is something to look at. not just something that allows me to move and breath and live. i want to see it... me... through someone else's eyes again.

someone i could become
i just finished reading a beautiful story by thomas mann and im listening to cat power... this is important, i think. the sense of being set apart and not belonging, of being known and observed. i have always felt a lack of direction. i do not pretend to be the only one. i know everyone must feel this, but being only me, i can only explain what it means to me. lately i have been thinking more about direction and what i am going to do with my life, etc. i am satisfied with not knowing... i hate that that question presupposes that i am not doing anything now. i am satisfied with knowing that i am doing something now and by my nature, i do not see myself ever stopping. i do not particularly want any more direction than this. its so hard to go into the city, cos you wanna say "hey, i love you" to everybody. my ideal life will be me forever experiencing and falling in love. in love with seasons, places, people, anything. trying to be someone that strangers can fall in love with. trying to figure out what i want to do, and most of the time, i think that i wont do much. at least in the typical sense. i will dream a lot and think a lot and notice a lot of things. but i am deathly afraid that i won't have the time or means to taste it all. cos the music is boring me to death. and maybe it is a sort of fate... i think my father realizes it. i think it bothers him. i think i have mentioned my father too much as of late. i think he knew... my thinking, my way of being... is difficult for him. it doesn't make sense to him a lot because he sees so much potential in me. i always had difficulty explaining to him my way of being. how just being, seems to always be enough for me. for some go of necessity astray, because for them there is no such thing as a right path. i only hope that i can be happy like this. and i think if i am given the space and freedom to pursue... being, then i will be.

(edit: yes, i am self-absorbed at times. im sorry if this post comes off wrong... i just needed to get stuff out.)

little room
i love my room here. i absolutely adore it. i come home from class and i open my door and immediately i feel at home. there's a certain smell to my room and a comfy feel that makes coming home that much nicer. i never much cared about my room in toronto. it never felt like mine. it was my parent's house, something my father drilled into my head. and probably partly because of this drilling, it never felt like mine. it was their place that i occupied occasionally... wanted to get out of more often than not. but here... here feels like me. my room in toronto was pretty bare, i rarely spent time in it and rarely cared about what it looked like. but here... my room is me. it is filled with little pieces of me that i brought and is continuing to be filled with pieces of what im becoming (that makes me sound like im turning into a butterfly or a platypus or something... lol). but there was a definite need to make this generic room my own... it was the first impulse i had when i walked in here in august... and it is a continuing one. it started as a need to feel secure in a situation that made me insecure at first. and now it is continuing as a way for me to create something... some sort of womb, have you... that i can crawl into and like. and that other people can walk into and feel like they can know me a bit better from just having been here.

this was a long ass post on my room. just incase you didn't notice.

i'm not.
i am continually surprised by the fact that some people just honestly intimidate me. for no apparent reason i feel inferior to them. and i hate handing over that kind of power to people i barely know.

today:
- the first thing i did was smile because it was noon and i had just woken up naturally
- my laundry got done, my room got cleaned, and i actually did a shitload of reading
- i secluded myself, as is my custom on sundays... its funny how accustomed i am to just being by myself and how thrown off my floormates are when they walk into my room to see me just sitting by myself crocheting
- i finished my scarf!
- the first song i listened to was sunday morning by no doubt
- i rediscovered oasis
- i went to the gym and had a really good work-out... i also realized that going to the gym is another thing i usually prefer to do alone
- i made many resolutions.
- felt like home

soma
soma is what they would take when
hard times opened their eyes
saw pain in a new way
high stakes for a few names
racing against sun beams
losing against fig trees
in your eyes

i figured it out. i couldn't quite put my finger on the exact reason that her specific actions bother me... i mean, if she's happy, i shouldn't care. but after reading an article on female accessibility and its connection to male power... it just makes a lot of sense that it is her accessibility that makes me sad.

to the lullabies
and so we ran away to that goldfish bowl. it was nice and the water was just the right temperature. we floated around and laughed a lot. the bubbles made us happy. we thought we'd decorate a bit and we filled our goldfish bowl with gravel and little toy castles. but these things only made us want more. we bought treasure chests and all sorts of crap. i could barely see you sometimes there was so much stuff. we started swimming around less. we started hiding behind things more. we wouldn't see each other for days, and i hardly ever laughed. my temper got shorter so that when we did see each other, we didn't have a good time. i'd swim away and regret it. but you see, i'm starting to think that there's a way. a way to clear out all this crap and laugh at the bubbles again.

if i could only find where you are hiding.