Talking With The Mists

Insecurity.

2010-12-02T12:10:00.002-07:00

With Love and sex and the admission that maybe exclusivity is the best solution after all, comes that horrible demon Jealousy, fed from that little well of insecurity that takes ages to quash utterly, and has a way of popping up at the most insidious times.

Well, this time isn't so much insidious or unexpected, except that I thought I'd mostly moved past it. I guess it's the whole reassurance thing. I'm feeling insecure and stuff, and I ask for reassurance, and it isn't really given. I know it's silly because I'm the one here, with him living with me and sleeping in my bed. Shouldn't that be reassurance enough? Probably. Especially since I know that the capacity to Love is endless.

But I still feel poopy. She's coming to visit, finally. I don't really know when she's arriving, or how long she's staying. Indi professes to not care, seeing as how she's chill and all, and usually I would agree... but I like to know these things. And she's significant. Until I meet her and she becomes a real, tangible person who's energy I can sense and get the measure of, and his reaction to her, the insecurity persists. And the feeling of inadequacy. Is that what it is? A fear of being held up in comparison to a girl by someone that I respect and love, and being found wanting? I guess that is what it is, because I'm crying. He wouldn't want to be forced to choose, he says. Hardly reassuring. Do months of discussions, cuddles, arguments, experiences falter when compared to a few good memories and vibes with this magical girl? I don't hate her; in fact, I'll probably really like her. It's more him, and myself, that are the problem.

I'm so tired of hearing her name.

But I want to meet her, talk to her, touch her.

I don't want it to be a question at all.

But no, I'm needed for the Genesis Device. Because I'm good breeding stock. I'm intelligent, responsible, attractive. And we need to be together for the Genesis Device. So I needn't fear.

I don't just want to be breeding stock. I want a long shared life before and after that, not just because of that.

Not to mention I'm so expressly his. But he's not really mine, I guess. Is he? Is he just an idiot, saying the wrong things because he doesn't realize?

And so the insecurity creeps on, slinking in the cracks.

Bleah.

Lah.

Revolution.

2010-07-17T18:22:00.002-06:00

Come on, Love: Bring it on, bring it on.

Even as I sang it, I knew it wasn't the best siren song to be sending out, but I'll never know whether it caught me because it rings true, or whether it rings because I chose it.

Both, probably. In any case, the end result is that I find myself here, as I am, with Life and Love straight up just smacking me across the face. You know, open-handed slap. Not the one that sends you sprawling over on the floor but one that definitely makes you see things differently.

First it was Christian. Yes, back to the boys. Because it's always the boys, it seems... or at least they are what drives me to discuss. Love is all, after all. So the X came, and I pretty much threw myself at him. Then he left, presumably to come back, and into my life sauntered Indigo. And even though I saw the road warning signs, I just couldn't stay away. Still can't stay away. Christian was a long time coming, but Indigo was no time at all because right away something in me recognized him. And he felt it too.

To be fair, he did be good at first. And I always saw that it was there, that potential... and shied away from it. For all of five minutes, in the grand scheme of things. But I saw the crossroads: even while I was on the verge of extending a subtle invite, I saw the potential to pull back... why didn't I? Doesn't bode well for my feelings, is the immediately apparent thought. And once I had opened that door a tiny little crack, it came spewing open uncontrollably. In that hazy space between night and morning, drunk and sober, orgasm and sleep, as he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close, I suddenly felt a psychic nuzzle and heard a little happy noise, and knew I was fucked. It wasn't me making the noises, but I've made them enough to know what they mean.

And the fog forming on my window
Tells me that the morning's here
and you'll be gone before too long...

No... I'm not going back.

Ah, Indigo. This was just the soul-click. My feeling of doom sealed when I thought back to Christian and my heart still did a little flip. He comes frequently to mind and my love for him hasn't been diminished one bit. This, I believe, is partially due to mistake--no, turning point--number two came to pass. That was the next morning, when somehow Indigo and I had gotten onto the topic of love and I looked at him and said, "No. Love openly and freely: the more you give, the more you have." He looked at me and something changed. Barrier number two was broken. And now we're so tightly woven together it's strange. But he's not the only person I'm woven to, thanks to the shared love. But of course, the realities and frustrations had yet to come. In fact, they still have probably yet to come. But behind the hippie is a hell of a brain, and incredible observational skills. What's more is that he's not afraid to say whatever the hell he's seeing, only he points it out in such a casual unconcerned way that you have to do a double take.

He and Christian are so completely different, it makes it both simpler and harder. They compliment each other well in that each has qualities the other doesn't. And they both drive me insane. Indigo and I get into these conversations, and sometimes arguments, and he makes me rethink things that I take for granted and that other people just accept. Often I'm struck by the fact that he really is older than me in some ways; a thought that I don't have often from maturity alone.

But one of the strangest things about all of this--and yet, what makes the most sense, if only to my sense of hope, although I think it runs deeper than that--is that this thing feels permanent. As in, the thought of years passing, of other lovers and loves, and of all manner of drama in between doesn't even seem daunting because it has already been set. It's already happened, even? I don't know. What's strange is that we even discussed this, long after I'd realized it and admitted it to myself. What kind of strange relationship do we have? Pretty much in the moment but honest about the future. A relationship where we talk about sexual interests and potential loves and actually pursue them. Funny enough, this is when I happen to be reading the Millenium series by Stieg Larsson, where a similar relationship 30 years later is featured. Indigo and I argue often about timing. I believe timing is everything because time means nothing. I don't understand his explanation at all, and can't remember it... which is probably why we argue, heh.

And now, dancing fiend that I have become, I'm preparing to go out and dance some more, this time to a Columbian ska band at a hotel on the edge of the east. After being up at 5 30 this morn' and waking up at 6 30 tomorrow. Should be interesting!

Oh, but how I love to dance, though. Did I mention that's how we connected? And to go dancing with him... First, that he even loves to dance as much or more than I. Second, that he has rhythm and soul.

Heh.

Lah.

The Missing Month.

2010-04-05T20:50:00.002-06:00

March? March? Wherever did you go? February stretched so incredibly long through the Olympics, and now it's April. Eek! And Inga and Jeff are here. As is Jules, for now. Yes, they've moved, and are out (theoretically) looking for jobs as I speak. And I am enjoying the blessed psychic silence and filling the physical one with music. Whee!

At least the next show is at the 340 pub... That's supposed to be enough of a dive that it might satisfy Inga. We shall see. I kind of think that the potential lower tolerance for utter belligerence will probably be good for her.

Mm. The Irish Cream wraps around my tongue and licks its way with tiny flames down my throat. Trance-inducing music. Onto another beat. It's in my throat now, settling down in between my breasts where it exudes and pulls in heat.

Lah.

A Touch of Health

2010-02-03T12:22:00.002-07:00

Here I sit, in Modern Brit Lit class. Somebody is eating something that smells delicious, and it makes me hungry. Then again, everything seems to. Perhaps it's because I smoke too much. Although only one type, now!

I've been trying to continue in the vein of my resolution and tread lightly. I did a detox a few weeks ago, and it did me a lot of good. It proved to me that I can indeed eat healthier! But I won't lie and say that it's easy now that I'm off the detox. There's a lot of crap that I get for free, especially at work, and I just can't bring myself to entirely ignore my cravings and deny what I'm offered. This makes it very frustrating to get on what basically amounts to the scale, that is, the Wii Fit. I hate how my weight always seems to spike up and down randomly, and asking you what you think you weigh and asking you the cause of your weight gain. It just puts a lot of focus on my weight, and I miss not having any idea what I weighed... it made me happier and less concerned about that and more so about how I feel about myself.

So after facing irritation and frustration for a few days after I apparently gained 6 lbs in 2 days, I elected to stop doing the daily body tests entirely and just move onto the exercise, which sacrifices my daily 'stamp' (whoop dee doo, I know). It saves me time in the mornings anyways! And I think I'm going to pick up a skipping rope and a weighted hula hoop, and do some on-my-own exercise. Hopefully I've got info coming about the hula hoop.... that's what I'm really looking forward to. That and the 100 jackknives I've been doing a few times a week, including this morning... I'm definitely tired, but in a good way! Hopefully what they say is true and I'll be entirely energized later on. Doesn't matter so much since I'm going home to cook and do homework after school. I'm just waiting for the Rocket to come.

Time is moving so quickly, as usual. The Olympics are now steamrolling over Vancouver and the big purple box of energy is almost fully in place, Reboot-style. I supposed I'm at a mix of excitement and hesitancy for the future to come, coming together in a general appreciation for the present. I'm still waiting for the heinas to come to me... It's happening slowly. But then, has it ever happened any other way? I suppose it has, but since time means nothing it doesn't really matter.

Class is almost over. Onto Spanish, and then Can Lit. I hear food calling my name... but the logistics might be a little strange to work out. But there's no denying: stomach always wins!

Lah.

2010-01-19T08:37:00.002-07:00

My body gets very confused when I dream that I don't sleep. My dreams had a lot of things last night... there were fireworks that I could see from my front porch of Stampede, or something similar. I called Kim and Shawn up to see it but they missed it, and some other stuff hapened with them that I of course can't remember. Then there was teh work part of the dream, where people wouldn't leave work because it was the last day of Stampede or whatever and I was tehre until something like 3 in the morning, trying to close and finish up. It didn't have the desperation of other times that I've dreamt about work and being unable to close though... I was just tired. And then when I was finally finally done I came across Melissa Louette and went to her house to see her... she let me have a shower in her house and I saw her Mum and the handsome repair dude that she was now with... Melissa told me about how she doesn't really like sex and a few other things that we caught up on... we spoke of reading in the shower and I went into the shower to read. She lent me her copy of a Visionary's Handbook, which she had gotten from Chracters and I was surprised because I specifically remember selling it to someone else, so we must have had two copies. When I got into the shower, the drain was closed and I didn't realize it while the shower was on and I was fighting to put up the shower curtain, so the bath filled up and I sunk down into it, looking for the plug. It kept slipping back in and I was afraid the tub was going to overflow, which it did a teeny bit, but I finally got it to stay open and it drained a little. I decided not to read int he shower at all, just to get it over with because I hadn't after all slept all night and wanted to get home quickly to Goddad's house, where he was waiting for me... But I figured her knew I was an adult to wouldn't worry too much. For some reason it seemed to me that Kellin was waiting there too even though we were still broken up, even in the dream. When I finally finished the shower I made my way out to the main entrance and started sorting my way through socks, getting ready to go althugh Meli's Mum was locked in her room with her husband and Meli was nowhere to be found. Then Brian cam,e or called, and offered to buy me a carton of cigarettes for me to do with as I willed as long as he got some, and I thought about it, kne wthat his ocmpany would be paying for it along with the flight home, and regretfully said no even though I was tired and desperately wanted one after all this detoxing. I reflected that the vitamins and healthy detoxing must have been what allowed me to pull an all-nighter with relative ease. Then Kellin showed up somehow just as Meli came back inand I reluctantly introduced her to him as my ex-boyfriend and tol dher that I had to go. She was disappointed, and I was too, and hoped that I could stay and chill but I reminded her that I hadn't slept at all and did need to sleep sometime. I finished putting on my socks--which by the way were the nice dress ones I got for Xmas--and got up to go and then the damned alarm went off and I was left awake and stranded in this dimension for a moment, cursing that I hadn't actually been able to get to sleep in the dream, leaving me feeling tired even though I got a good 8-8.5 hours of sleep.

But now that I'm up and about I do feel better.

Lah.

A dream.

2010-01-06T08:50:00.002-07:00

An odd dream. I had to go back to Charles Perrault for some reason, and there were now Spanish studies going on there. I ended up meeting Dan there, or he came with me, and after all the coincidences it didn't surprise me that his sister/relative went there, and that he'd just finished going there, so we has just that one more thing in common. Many of my friends and people that I'd known there seemed to have younger siblings that were going there and I ended up meeting a whole bunch of people I knew there. The only one that sticks out in my head is Tracy-Lee... it felt like no time had passe dand we all kind of chilled and cuddled and I remembered how much I had missed them, how much we had shared. Of course tehre are parts missing here, but eventually we were in another place, and there was this one girl who didn't like me for some reason and was really upset, but it seemed liek it was over stupidity. Daniel didn't seem to be getting along great with the Charles Perrault people simply because they weren't his crowd and he didn't have the memories that I did. It gets all confused... I remember looking aoutside when we finally decided to leave and it was snowing. I remember separations, divisions... Feeling a bit of jealousy and resignation as he once again disappeared into another room to comfort her, she drew people around her in an effort to get attention or something like that. I remember being unexpectedly accepted by one or many. And hanging back for some reason and looking around and a whole other crowd or older dudes had come in... the older male relatives of whoever's house we were at?

I don't know. It gets all mezclado en mi cabeza.

Lah.

Bah.

2010-01-04T20:12:00.002-07:00

Fuck you and fuck the stupid horse you rode in on. I understand busy-ness. But anticipate busy-ness. Explain ahead of time. Don't fucking make plans with someone that you know you can't keep, or keep someone hanging for hours after they find out those plans can't be kept. Because while you might be busy, they might be waiting. They might have been looking forward to it, whether 'it' be five minutes or a whole night.

Even five minutes would have been nice. I anticipated him overbooking himself, like an airplane flight. Of course, I'm holding a ticket but only on the wait list. All I was expecting was five minutes. But after fucking waiting and delaying and spending all that time and effort worrying, I'll be damned if I was going to ask for those five fucking minutes. "Please, even just to see your face? I'm forgetting what it looks like. And I dressed up nice today, I want you to see me with my twists so I can take the damned things out." How lame does that sound? More like "Bite me, asshole."

Arg. He's not even an asshole. He just overbooks himself. I knew that. But I got my stupid hopes up anyways. I want to punch him in the face now. It's stupid but he's also my distraction from the smoking... it's easier to forget about it and the cravings when I'm not home alone and brooding.

I'll get over it. Supposedly he's coming over tomorrow night. Woohoo. Know what that means? That means I have to do all my fucking homework tonight--which I no longer feel like doing because my good mood has been worn down by 20 lbs of new textbooks and a nearly maxed out credit card (to say nothing of him)--or tomorrow morning. And clean the house. Wait, scratch that last one. Fuck him.... why should I bother?

Rocky Horror and margarita time. Maybe a good cry. And early bed tonight. Things will seem better in the morning? I hope so. And I hope it's either stinking busy at work or completely dead. Either way, I just don't want to think.

Lah.

Throw Rocks at Them.

2010-01-03T23:32:00.002-07:00

Arg. Stay calm. Annoyance is no good reason to get upset. Just chill, keep your cool. The nicotine cravings certainly aren't helping, either. But boys are so STUPID! Okay. It's just annoyance. He's not stupid, just himself and a product of his sex and gender. But I'm tired of hopping around. Maybe just not used to being the less busy one. And certainly annoyed. So he starts early... so no chance of seeing him before. But then wait, he's not going to classes anyways because he's gotta sort out his schedule. So what's that mean? Should I offer to stop by earlier? I already said I'd stop by after class at 4 30. But then, right before he leaves he says he says Oh by the way, "I've got a social to run tomorrow afternoon. But free hot dogs!" What does that mean? Does that mean I can go? Wtf? And then I ask what time it's from and he says 5-7. So... I'll get to stop in for a half hour, less the time it takes me to get over there. Fine... But instead of rushing in and out, wouldn't it be better to stop in before class instead? But he's already gone, with a "Goodnight, love", the first since he got back.

I am Jack's overactive nervous system.

Whatever. I know that I'll be less confused and more able to read what the hell is going on once I actually see him. Likely it's just stress and I'm one more thing to worry about and so backburner. Okay, I can understand that. But I'm not busy and stressed right now, having taken the time to sort out my schedule and shit before classes start. Anyways. Point is, I'm chilled and so have nothing better to do with my mind than think about this shit and think about him. Leading to overthinking, and thus confusion and annoyance.

But I'm trying to still chill. Stay chill. After all, I've got some downtime before the storm, and I'm grateful. I wish for him to have what's best for him, and I wish him peace, too.

Woo. I feel much better now. Which might have something to do with the cigarette I caved and had.

I guess nobody said it would be easy. Relationships or giving up addictions. Or treading lightly, ironically enough.

In any case, bedtime for me. Tomorrow's another day... we'll see what happens.

Much love.

Lah.

Welcome to the New Year.

2010-01-03T01:04:00.002-07:00

A full moon, and a single bright star shining on the new year. I had a quiet one this year, with Shawn and Kim in Maple Ridge. It was a nice change, and a nice time. To cap off an excellent holiday season, with incredible amounts of laughter, partying, and general love and joy. Surprise? I think not. But made none the less pleasurable for its predictability.

And now, home again, alone again, and naked again. I still haven't unpacked, having elected to sit and watch Becoming Jane, a movie I got for Christmas, instead. The sentimental feelings of the holidays and the resulting etherealness of the time before it have left me conflicted. I want to share the joy and the news and, well, life with him, but the time we spent together before the holidays seems almost like a dream, and the relationship is new enough that the dreamlike qualities undermine my assurance in the security of the thing. So I'm left doubly wanting to reconnect and reaffirm it, but unsure that my anxiousness is reciprocation. And doubly complicated by the idea that even if it's not reciprocated, it may well simply be that his memory is far clearer than mine and so he simply does not doubt. And then the thoughts that perhaps he does doubt and is therefore playing it lightly as I am, and that perhaps I should take the first step in that case, horn in and I'm left feeling quite confused about it all, and with a headache on top of that from the million other possibilties that continue to branch off.

And every time the silly program dings (for another, I might add) I feel momentarily excited and then silly.

But despite all of this, for the most part I'm trying to just chill. Tread lightly, as it were, my New Year's resolution. Patience and all of that... it'll deroule in time. And despite doubts, I have the feeling that it will unfold to other than my worst fears. Worrying helps nothing, in any case. As my plans have only been in my head, it's understandable that others aren't following them. Certain other needs are not at the right time to be fulfilled either, so patience only ensures that the final event will be even more fantastic.

I want to just blow his mind, though. Call it vanity, Emotion, whatever, but I just want to punch him in the face with awesomeness. Or maybe a Sockem' Bopper. Heehee.

But this whole time being all one piece is partially awesome, partially driving me crazy. I think the time-space folding thing allows me to feel parts or whole emotions while removed from the situation simply by allowing me to phaze in and tune in because after all, it's happening all the time, that event. If that makes sense. But at the same time while an event is happening, I can grasp onto it and feel it whole but I know it's fleeting because at the same time I'm tuning into realities where it's not being felt. Which is why it's easy to chill and be patient but at the same time it's the hardest thing in the world.

And my stupid overanalytical brain. Constantly seeking patterns, to the point where I wonder whether it's creating them to fill the need. Choosing most words carefully and absorbing each one that comes in return and then feeding it through lenses and scopes and ideas and points of view.

But now, to bed. What will come will come, and I have plenty to do until it does!

Lah.

A Break Before Bed.

2009-12-09T00:21:00.002-07:00

Ah, exam season. Such a combination of lag and stress. But I've had many exam seasons over the years and I fancy myself slightly used to it. It helps that I have all these moments of detente with Daniel and that I have Mama and a support group. I'm part of the Village! The Village is what we have come to term the community that Elanor and her female friends and fellow moms have formed, of love and support. And to see the effect on the children of the group... Pretty darn cool, man. Pretty darn cool. I look at them and I see the future. Sounds a bit cliched, but it's completely true. They give me chills, but in a good way. And I marvel at how far I've come in life already, and yet how much further I have to go. Only thing to do is enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. Live it to the fullest and touch every bit of it! Of course, the stress sometimes gets to me. But I know that I'm not alone, and I have all these things to look forward to! Christmas is coming, and a time to rest. The end is nigh folks, and we're all gonna fry together. Or fight together, however you want to look at it!

And the boy, the boy... The boy has a large enough ego that certainly does not need anymore pandering to. Suffice to say, he dances. What's strange is, he's not so big on kisses. Little affectionate ones, yes... peppered kisses, yes... and there's nothing wrong with those! But the involved ones, the casual ones... all the literal lip-locking, not so much. Something to ponder on. Watching a relationship grow is the strangest thing. A very cool thing to watch, but strange all the same. Like a book but not like a book. Living a book, I suppose... But he's aware, too. Which makes me curious to know how he sees it. Maybe it's just the mesh starting, but I like meshing brains and getting into his head. Or getting his head into mine, I suppose. Because he's got a distinctness to him that means mine doesn't just overpower it.

As always, we shall see. But things are getting clearer and sometimes I can just watch the Universe unfold before me. It's unsettling in the best of ways. Everything always happens exactly as it should.

I guess I really am Indigo to the max, eh?

Lah.

Emotion.

2009-12-08T10:14:00.002-07:00

If there's one thing that I understand, it's emotion. The immersiveness of them, the ups, downs, lows and pure feelings. Of course, sometimes I'm a little too close to them... Other peoples', especially. The mind is a powerful thing. It can convince people of anything, and once a person is convinced of something it's not difficult to manifest it into actual reality, especially when it is a personal reality.

This makes the topic of emotion a very slippery one. If you convince yourself that you have an emotion and thus cause yourself to feel it, is it still as valid as one that takes you by surprise? If you get so caught up in the thinking of things that you forget to stop thinking and experience, are your thoughts really worth it?

All things considered and all things that I've done, I've never REALLY bad tripped before. Little bad trips, I've suffered through alone. I think the overall lack of bad tripping is because I spend so much time worrying in my head when I'm sober that I do drugs to slow down the brain's overacting instead of speed it up. And bad tripping is an ultimate example of the brain's power and how it can affect your reality.

But let's get off of that for a moment, because I'm, as usual, limited for time. Let's go back to the validity of convincing oneself of an emotion. Like bad tripping, the emotion is no less valid for being contrived. Is thinking yourself into it really any different from those that fling themselves headlong into emotions? And what effect does being aware of it cause?

I've been feeling a downward spiral of my own into emotion for the past few weeks. It's a combination of thoughts and occasional spikes. And the fact that I know the downward spiral is being reciprocated means feeding into each other, as well. Part of me wants to say "No! Too fast! Back it up Sayata, you're just talking yourself into it!" But the truth is, I do understand emotion, and there is no problem with loving freely and openly. We turn it into such a big thing, almost to be feared. "No, I can't say that. No, I can't feel that. It must be wrong." But my honesty policy extends to myself, too. There's no reason why there has to be an only love that freezes out all others, and no reason why a love for a partner must exceed a love for a family member or close friend. And there's no reason why one aspect of love must make others, including previous ones, less valid.

But I do have to say... Why are you seeing fit to hit me in the face repeatedly with Love, Goddess? Not that I'm ungrateful. And I do try to put a lot out in the world, so maybe it's coming back to me, in which case thanks! But really... my poor heart feels like it's getting smacked around like a baseball and exploding with all these constant feelings. Thank God they're mostly good, but yesterday was painful! Very painful!

Lah.

Let's Talk Turkey.

2009-11-28T21:49:00.004-07:00

Life?
A reaction to emptiness.
Time?
Continues for the Boogeyman.
Just give me one
Chance
To feature you in Sunshine.
And we could both
Dance
The aphid swarm away.

Hello, hello,
Losing motivation.
Losing concentration.
Losing ground.

Solo, solo,
Don't like moderation.
Starved for conversation.
Are you down?

Love?
A reaction to some soft skin.
What about...
Trust?
I've seen it here and there.
And give me some girls!
Be careful what you wish for.
So take me out!
Woo, honey let's go dancing!

Hello, hello,
Losing concentration.
Losing motivation.
Losing ground.

Solo, solo,
Don't like moderation.
Starved for conversation.
Are you down?

Don't stop wasting people's time...

Ima Robot, "Let's Talk Turkey."

Lah.

Love? A Reaction to Some Soft Skin.

2009-11-28T20:57:00.002-07:00

Just a note, because I'm supposed to be writing an essay right now and so can't put in the time I'd like to on this entry.

But I guess I should be slapped, as previously requested. Heh. It seems like I and the other have graduated from simply casual friends with benefits to something slightly more serious but without name. Just basically going with the flow, for now. The feelings are there though, and based on entirely different things than the other other. And funnily enough the butterflies are different from the addictive ones. These feelings are almost as bad because they don't fade so quick. But that's a topic for another day. Suffice to say it with a smile! =)

Lah.

In Retrospect.

2009-10-29T00:09:00.004-06:00

"Good Day" by the Dresden Dolls.

So you don't want to hear about my good song?
And you don't want to hear about how I am getting on.
With all the things that I can get done
The sun is in the sky & I am by my lonesome...
So you don't want to hear about my good day?
You have better things to do than to hear me say:

God, it's been a lovely day! Everything's been going my way.
I took out the trash today and I'm on fire...

So you don't want to hear about my good friends?
You don't have the guts to take the truth or consequence
Success is in the eye of the beholder
And its looking even better over your cold shoulder!

I'm not suggesting you get to line me up for questioning
But Jesus think about the bridges you are burning
And I'm betting
That even though you knew it from the start
You'd rather be a bitch than be an ordinary broken heart.

So go ahead and talk about your bad day...
I want all the details of the pain and misery
That you are inflicting on the others
I consider them my sisters and I want their numbers!

God it's been a lovely day! Everything's been going my way.
I took up croquet today and I'm on fire!

I picked up the pieces of my broken ego...
I have finally made my peace as far as you and me go.
But I'd love to have you up to see the place.
I'd like to do more than survive, I'd like to rub it in your face!

Hey! It's been a lovely day! Everything's been going my way.
I had so much fun today and I'm on fire!
God, it's been a lovely day! Everything's been going my way.
Ever since you went away, hey! I'm on fire...

So you don't want to hear about my good day?

Lah.

Doors Opening and Closing.

2009-10-28T15:17:00.003-06:00

A quick timeline of my life since this blog was started:

February 2004: Decided to move to Van.
October 2004: Opened the Mists to the world.
November 2004: Finished Broken Wings!
October 2006: Started dating Kellin.
January 2007: Graduated high school.
June 2007 (ish): Kellin decided to move to Van.
Late 2007-June 2008: Cracked out period.
July 2008: Went to UK, cleaned up the act.
September 2008: Kellin and I moved to Van, I started Uni.
October 2008: Started working at Characters and met Elanor.
April 2009: Kellin started to fuck up big-time.
July 2009: Inga and Jeff decided to move to Van.
September 2009: Things fell apart entirely.

And now, back in October yet again... Five years later, three years after I met Kellin and a year after finally moving to Van... And it's over. We're done. Kaput, terminated. Not the move, but Kellin and I.

I just wanted to put things in perspective, considering how hard it is to perceive time in the mists. It's been over a little while, already... Long enough that I'm getting over it. The thoughts of all the shit he's done no longer make me want to cry, and the realizations of just how bad it got are starting to surface. Relationship without trust? I tried to build it, but they were right. All the books were right. Pft... Impossible.

And today is the one-week mark until he's gone for good, back to Calgary. Is that the right place for him to go? Will he be happy there, or will he fall back into the stagnant pool? Will all the things we did and learned fade into the past and become nothing but distant memories?

I don't know. And I don't care. Well, of course I care... But I'm not letting myself get involved in it any more. I've let him go and so I need to let go.

And now, no relationship for me for a while. Just lots of sex. Not with him, of course! But I'm going to build my support base of friends and allies up again before anything serious. It's time that I experienced living on my own for a while, and being responsible for nobody but myself. A new phaze in life and all of that. I intend to have some fun! Well, I'm already having fun. Halloween has been a mandatory party for a few years now, and I'm not letting that stop now.

And somehow, I've become popular! Not the silly high school definition of that crap... In fact, popular is the wrong word altogether. How about, 'desired'? This means people actually seem to like me (insert giggle here). And boys! I'm not sure what I want to do about them. I feel like I'm building them as allies, too. Lately it's been a certain boy. Who knows where we stand? Who cares? The sex is excellent (and I do mean excellent) and he's intelligent, strange, and funny. I had forgotten (or perhaps never known) what it was like to spend time with someone who can follow me when I delve into concepts (and not just pretend and nod vacantly) and even put forth such concepts of his own. My mind, thanks to these people and school, is once again agile and free to dance. I was so busy trying to prove that love could conquer all that I forgot to exercise the parts of my brain that need it.

And now, I'm still thinking Love conquers all. But I don't have the craving to be loved... After all, I am loved already! And there can be cuddles and sex and joy and laughter without the exclusion. I still know that I could love just about anybody. I think knowing that helps. I have to choose where to distribute that love, and not just pick and fixate. That doesn't mean I can't focus my considerable attention in other ways, though.

There are the tickles, too. Butterflies, whatever you want to call them. Maybe I'm addicted to them, but I don't think so. I do think they're fun, though... I'm going to enjoy them while they last. Watch the progression while it comes. I wouldn't mind trying out another boy or two, although by no means is this one disposable (or no more so than any of them). I have to make a decision on whether to follow up on another one who is a potential ally, potential lover. Who knew there were so many awesome people out there? Awesome people who are 'interested', shall we say? But I would like to be pursued for a little while. Which is why I'm debating following up (or not) on one Monsieur.

Just let this be a record! Honesty, faith, fun. If my next post has me dithering over how I've fallen in love at the exclusion of all others, then please slap me. I intend to love freely and openly, but also truly and not just because someone is paying attention to me. It's time to teach myself just how desirable I actually am. I've worked on Honesty and Self and now I'd like to let go of my addictions.

Lah.

Bask in the glow.

2009-07-22T22:18:00.005-06:00

So here I am, my guests here at last. The boys, except for Jeff, are all out getting Christian's poor skin some relief at Safeway. So here I sit on the couch while Inga and Jeff are being all snuggly, just chilling and thinking.

First of all, I'm pretty tired. We spent something like four hours at the beach, and a lovely time indeed that it was! And I have so many feelings running through me, I can't avoid thinking on them and dwelling. Nothing negative, but a lot interesting. Very mixed feelings, in fact.

At this point, what I would love most to do is just dogpile all on top of each other and have as many of them touching me as possible, particularly (of course) Christian and Kai. I just love having them around. Of course, there is the mixedness, but the pleasure of their company is indubitable. I don't even necessarily want to do anything with them, just bask in the company. I wish I could have time to just lie with each and every one of them, even Jeff.

I just really hope Inga and Jeff end up coming here for good. I miss having family nearby. Family I can party with... Family that knows me very well. Family that I know very well.

But I am tired. Happy, but very tired. Actually dealing with them seems to be taxing my abilities. Hence wanting to just bask.

Lah.

Slacking Off.

2009-07-10T03:29:00.002-06:00

Oh. My. God.

It has been ages since I've been to a show; I realize that. It's also rare that I go to a band that I love as much as I love the Slackers. But tonight... Well, let's just say it's also been a long time since I've had inspiration for a blog entry at two in the morning. But the Slackers did it tonight.

Ah, I'm glad to live in Vancouver.

But tonight was... special. Despite the fact that I arrived at quarter to nine at the nightclub, only to find out that the Slackers weren't actually coming on until 11:30... three intro bands, anyone? And of course, you know with three openers, the first one is gonna be absolutely crap.

Sure enough, it was a woman alone onstage with a guitar. Promising, you say? Except that it was out of the groove for the crowd, and she seemed far more concerned with expressing her own genius than with actually putting the true feeling into the music. It didn't help that--from what I could tell--she was singing about potatoes in one song and bestiality in another song. Her closing song, in fact. Now, is that really how you want people to remember you? Making love to a monkey?

Band number two was ska and excellent, but I was conserving my energy for the big one. After all, I worked 8 hours today... I was just hoping to stay awake until they got onstage, and at least dance a little. I dodged the awkwardness of being there alone by writing in my journal, which is a pastime that I also don't get to enjoy as often as I once did.

Guy number three was another dude on stage alone with his guitar, but he had soul. Still, it was a little too slow for the venue and my frame of mind.

And then... I made my way to a good place in the crowd, in the dance pit but not too close, in time to see the bass player in a white suit, complete with hat, fixing stuff up onstage. The rest of the band took long enough to come out that people were getting antsy, but then on they came and they wasted no time getting the groove on.

Let me tell you, there is no feeling like the horns vibrating at the base of your spine, your consciousness. The trumpet and the saxophone blew straight through me. That's the feeling that makes it so that you have no choice but to groove and dance.

Of course, everyone reacted in their own way. There are classic groups of reaction here: the die-hards at the very front, leaning against the barrier with their ears exploding, in front of the moshers ever. You might be surprised that there were moshers at a chill band like the Slackers, but there's always moshers. And especially like at a chill show like this, it was only a loose pit, with the violent ones that want any excuse to work out that anger. I've spent enough time theorising on the mentality of a mosh pit that I don't need to get into it now, but I definitely was not in a moshing groove. Hell, 'moshing groove' is an oxymoron... It's not a groove, it's a need. But not for me, not this time, and possibly not anymore, and especially not without steel toed boots. I was on the very edge of the pit, enough that I wasn't getting dragged in and tossed around, but close enough that once someone stepped full on my (sandalled) big toe with about twice my weight. Ow.

My annoyance spiked at this point. I looked around to see how other people were reacting to the band (after all, I came to love them on my own and had no idea how they were received by others), and to my surprise and delight there was a guy nearby, apparently alone, who was not only grooving on the exact same vibe I was, but was also singing every single word along with them--audibly--and WELL. Solidly built, attractive, with small plugs in his ears and a funky hat on.

-faints- Could this be love?

No, Kellin isn't out of the picture... but he wasn't there tonight due to lack of interest and brokeness... and let's face it... he can't dance... won't dance, most of the time... Just because he doesn't get into that same mental place that I do.

Soooo... I shamelessly seduced the guy.

Well, not quite like that. But I made sure to keep him near me out of the corner of my eye, so I could keep us grooving together. It was an interesting use of my power... Fun! I figured he was probably gay, and didn't have the guts to catch him eye to eye and comment on the overall amazingness of it all, or congratulate him on his own awesomeness. The guys he appeared to be with kind of bobbed slightly and occasionally and rythymlessly, drifting freely away from him and only showing their (apparent) connection by leaning over every once in a while and going 'amazing' or something similar in a total white-loser kind of way. Not that they necessarily were--after all, they were there and enjoying it, so booyah!--but I had eyes only for the rare specimen of Boy With Rhythym. Especially when I read his emotions and he seemed really nice... not that I'll ever know for sure, I guess.

But anyways.

After another near-miss with the semi-active pit (it would collapse for a while as everyone forgot about hurting each other and just danced), I managed to manoeuvre myself in front of him. Now I could keep him in my sights, with the added bonus of his large male form being between me and pain.

And then I just danced... and that was enough. Over the next two hours, we just continued to vibe together without even a word or look exchanged. I knew he had noticed me just as I had noticed him. Our bodies would brush: natural in such close quarters. I just ensured they brushed more... A shoulder, a hip... innocuous stuff.After all, dancing should involve touching wherever possible, right? And I was feeling lonely, but not confident enough to make myself obvious. By the end though, we'd worked up to me standing directly in front of him, and we were dancing with each other without actually dancing WITH each other. Well, maybe he was planning a bit. I just trusted the vibe. And we danced. And was that something I felt brushing my butt? Could it be true? He wasn't gay as I'd feared, if so.

By the encores, he was occasionally brushing my hip with his hand and I wasn't sure whether it was on purpose or by accident. It felt like he was nervous but interested. But hell. He'd have to be dead not to be interested, with all the subtle brushing, hinting, and power-focusing I was sending his way. When his hands finally found themselves on my hips during a slower song, I informed him that it was okay for them to be there by putting mine over his.

And it was nice, dancing. He wasn't gross or sending off creepy vibes. Every time they started up another song, I thanked God it wasn't over... partially because they were SO PHENOMENAL. But also because the moment was just so perfect. And I kept thinking about what we'd do when the lights came up, what I'd say. I wanted him to know that I don't do this all the time, that I picked HIM, not because I was horny or drunk but because he was different. I don't know. It was a weird feeling. Is. When the Slackers finally left for good, I still didn't know what to do, although I wasn't really nervous. I made a split second decision after the music had been over for a minute and he hadn't made a move and caught his eye--just barely for a moment--and then walked out and straight to the bus stop without looking back.

*sigh* Now I'm regretting that. I have no idea whether he got the whole thing the way I did. I wish I'd at least got his name, something, if only to know someone else with my taste in music, to have another friend. It was so weird, the way I just walked out... chickened out, I guess, but there was no fear in my mind; it was almost automatic. I guess I wished for a boy that could dance that night and I got him, but it was Cinderella-style: sorry-only-til-the-music's-over-honey. The attachment I formed, the like, the desire to know whether all the emotions and personality guesses that I formed were right... Kinda crazy considering, like I said, we never really said anything to each other. But there was an awareness--

And now I'll never know. Sigh. I guess maybe our paths might cross again... Who knows? But I might not recognize him, my visual memory being the crap that it is, and I suspect if I made no signs of recognition he wouldn't either, despite the fact that I know I'm memorable.

On another note, although I can't devote the time and care to another long entry about the Slackers themselves (it'll come eventually, but maybe not for another year when they come back, haha), I've noticed that there's two types of Skafreak, band members and fans alike. There's the kind of broody-looking one that often has facial hair, often dark. And then there's the barefaced happy guy who has the kind of cheeks that either come from or just are perfect for blowing an insane amount of air through a trumpet or other horn instrument.

That crooning Bronx accent that I like so much is the brooder-looking guy, Vic. And he's cute! I always thought it was an unwritten rule that good Ska bands need to be full of old guys with young voices, but apparently he's the exception!

Thought I'd mention those things. Oh, and I should also mention that I probably partially enjoyed this show so much because I wasn't STINKING WASTED. Note to self.

Lah.

Let's Go Get Stoned.

2009-02-23T09:37:00.005-07:00

I swear sometimes you're taking me for granted;
I swear sometimes you're a whore.
I swear but I know there ain't no reason.
'Cause everything is such a bore...

Last night I had a dream, though it made me sick:
Saw you in your bedroom, sucking someone else's--
My friends all laughed, said it was my fault...
'Said it's time that it happened to me.
But I know that the show was much more than a blow,
So I'm waiting for the tide to get low.

If I was an ant crawling upon the wall,
Tell me baby would it make any difference at all?
If I was a roach on a tree, tell me, would you smoke me?
Bright lights... put me in a trance...
But it ain't house music, makes me want to dance.
I don't gamble but I bet,
I'm gonna die if I don't get a cigarette.
Hold me close, I always play the mack
with this monkey on my back.

Sublime.

Lah.

Classes and Fog.

2009-01-16T11:02:00.005-07:00

Voice: It's about time. I've been waiting forever, trying to get your attention.

Weaver: I know it's been a while, but you said that you were always here when I needed you, and I haven't needed you for a while now.

Voice: I take offense to that. I'm your friend too, you know. Not just your confidante.

Weaver: I know. I said I'm sorry.

Voice: Apology accepted.

Weaver: You certainly succeeded in getting my attention though, I have to say. All this mist is a beautiful thing.

Voice: The mist was Vancouver. I just helped you see me in it.

Weaver: Aside from the fact that I can't see you at all... How could I not? I've been heading towards this my entire life. I wonder if that's what all this obsession with mist all these years has been about. People look around outside and shrug, continuing on their normal paths. Some are too oblivious to even really notice the splendor in it. Some have lived with it forever and are jaded, and still others simply look around at the inaction of everybody else and mimic it, ruthlessly subduing their natural inclination to stop and admire it.

Voice: But such will always be people.

Weaver: The other day on the bus, watching them sluggishly refuse to move to the back and make room, I could help but think that they're all useless sheep.

Voice: All of them? Really?

Weaver: Pretty much. I don't want to have contempt for the human race in general, but sometimes...

Voice: Look below the surface skin and see the individual talents. Everyone has a purpose. Everyone has a role to play.

Weaver: I suppose.

Voice: Is this really why you came back to see me?

Weaver: To be honest, I'm not sure why I came back to see you. Just lonely, I guess. So much has changed so fast. And yet not fast at all. I've been preparing for this my whole life.

Voice: Preparing to move out and go to University?

Weaver: Not quite... Although I've been preparing to move out for some time. But it feels like my entire life has been training and finally I've moved into the last legs: practical application of knowledge.

Voice: What is University, if not practical?

Weaver: It's showing me the other side so that I can reject it. It's showing me that I'm capable of pursuing, but not meant to live in, this academic world.

Voice: Are you enjoying these lessons?

Weaver: Very much so, in some ways. And I love Vancouver so much, I feel so much like I belong here, and despite the occasional sheeplike quality that the masses have, I like the population here in general. Kellin loves it too, and it's good for him.... And I love him.

Voice: Then what's the problem?

Weaver: The problem is that I only have him. I would love some friends... Well, that's not true. I don't want friends... I want more family. I'm finding it harder and harder to translate from offhand banter to close friendship. I don't want to have to deal with people in order to get to the close friend stage.

Voice: Nothing worth having comes free. Suck it up or stop bitching.

Weaver: Okay, let me rephrase that... I haven't really met anyone that I want to make that effort for. Or anyone who seems to want to make that effort for me. And the few possibilities that I've had... it just didn't happen. There was no mesh.

Voice: Well, the way I see it, there are two possibilities... The first is that one of you didn't try hard enough, or you didn't open up and let them in. The other is that it just wasn't there, and no matter how hard either of you try, if it's just not there then it's just not there.

Weaver: Which do you think it is?

Voice: I think you answered your own question before, when you said there was no mesh. Sometimes one will form by chance or time, but if it doesn't... what can you really do?

Weaver: That's what I was asking you.

Voice: You can continue to try, and put it out there. How much you work at it is up to you. The more you do, the more chance you have of stumbling upon it, but also the more energy you'll use up in the process.

Weaver: A fair trade, I suppose.

Voice (beginning to fade): Was that all?

Weaver: Not quite. I just want to talk a little. Possibly at you, if not with you.

Voice: There's no time here. Speak all you want.

Weaver: It's getting faster. The spiral is getting smaller.

Voice: Downward spirals always get smaller at the bottom. It's their nature.

Weaver: It's getting smaller, and all of us here who are drifting along it are spinning quicker. It's driving people insane.

Voice: There's always a balance.

Weaver: Yes, some people are rising to the occasion. It seems like everyone is drifting to either one side or another... the grey area is shrinking too. It's not long now until we hit the bottom.

Voice: Where are you going with this?

Weaver: I don't know. Just feel the need to comment on it every once in a while. I look around at the papers and everything turned on it's ear. When I first heard the Olympics were coming to Vancouver I was so excited. They came to Montreal a decade or more before I was born and they came to Calgary only a few years before. I thought that they were finally catching up to me in Van.

Voice: My guess that the spinning of the spiral changed something.

Weaver: Yes, of course. It changes everything. All of a sudden I question the Olympics themselves. What are they? A chance for athletes to prove their skills, certainly. But there are separate events that mean as much or more to the individual sports.

Voice: They don't have it all together in one place.

Weaver: But who cares if they're together in one place? I'll tell you who... the media. The advertising people, and therefore the entire population. And that's what's making them cling so tenuously to an event that has no purpose other than to help enslave the masses.

Voice: That's a strong term.

Weaver: You haven't read the papers. The economy's going down the shithole, whether from actual recession or just public paranoia, and the city is spending more and more and more every week on underbudgeted costs for the Olympics. They're asking to 'temporarily' suspend the public's right to vote on whether or not they can take more money to fill these extra costs. Because there was some sort of kerfuffle over who got to vote for Vancouver to have the Olympics in the first place, this issue is dividing the province somewhat.

Voice: And people are standing for this?

Weaver: People are divided. That's a problem. It makes me wonder whether it will be these Olympics that break Vancouver.

Voice: It makes sense.

Weaver: Let's look at Van. BC is years ahead of other provinces for being Green, and the people are mostly tuned in. People are prepared (generally) for what's to come. The climate's changing, but not radically.

Voice: Then how did this Olympic thing come into being?

Weaver: Tuned in doesn't mean there aren't capitalist pigs, useless sheep, and all the other little bits and pieces that make up society. And all of the Olympic building is based on projected income that the Games will generate. But what if the Games don't generate it? What if in the end the Games only do exactly what they look like they're doing now: choke the city to death? The games are in 2010... That's long enough to really get themselves even more fucked into a hole than they are. But the worst effects usually aren't felt right away. What if they just hide the symptoms and it festers, getting worse until in 2012 shit just... collapses? Or something similar?

Voice: It could happen.

Weaver: I'm afraid it will happen. I know I'm supposed to be here for a reason, and not just because here is where I fit. It needs me as much as I need it.

Voice: I guess we'll see.

Weaver: I guess we will... I've got to go now.

Voice: I know. You said what you needed to.

Weaver: I'll be back.

Voice: I know. You'll be back when you need to be. I'll be here.

Weaver: I'm sorry it's been so long.

Voice: Waiting isn't so bad as all of that. There's no time here, and I watch.

Weaver: I love you.

Voice (fading): I love you too.

Lah.

PENS!!!!

2008-07-19T22:20:00.001-06:00

PENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENSPENS

I love pens. I lose my black pen in Skye or Edinburgh (or perhaps in between the two) and have been dissatisfied ever since. I finally forked over a pound 50 for two pens that promised to be ‘smooth’, but was sorely disappointed when it turned out to be thick and wet... Okay, but just as dissatisfying as a blue pen. Grr... But then I found a cup full of pens on the bar, and ALL BUT ONE are BLACK!!! GOOD BLACK!!! And one is almost the double of the one I lost.

-swoons-

Yeah, so I’m odd.

Lah.

...That Daring Young Woman Screaming On the Flying Trapeze.

2008-07-19T20:16:00.000-06:00

I am now an official Ape. I have the certificate to prove it.

Heh, Blair and I just finished the Go Ape! Experience, doing various heart-dislocating crossings, jumps, and swings through the canopies of huge old tree.

Definitely made this whole Lake District thing worth it. I’m now chilling, listening to music on the way back, trying to ignore my raging nausea in the car.

I’m not sure why I’m so ill: hunger probably, since I haven’t eaten for several hours and the adrenaline during the whole treetops thing kept me from feeling any hunger until now.

Ah, the adrenaline. Ah, the treetops. We had harnesses attaching us to cables the entire winding, up-and-down way, and we were constantly unclipping and reclipping ourselves—very careful, because our lives depended on it—to the various cables everywhere.

Holy cow. Majour random displaced feeling. I just remembered a ‘dream’ I had recently, and by dream I mean alternate reality. Something happened and we had to go home halfway through the trip. It’s so disjointed and mismatched I can’t really explain it (although I’m wondering if it’s the same night as the one with Kell and the Chinese food), but I just remember images, feelings so clearly it feels certain it happened, and I know in the ‘dream world’ days, even weeks passed during that one night of 'sleep'.

Yikes.

And now, I’m waiting for room in the kitchen so I can feed myself.

ERG GET OUT!!!

Bleah. I hate the way Anne takes everything over.

Anyways, the Go Ape thing. It was about three hours long (3 exciting hours) and the two scariest bits were the first zipline (stepping out into open air that first time is a doozy... and you take that step, and bounce on air, moving slowly... and it’s not so bad.. until you speed up and flail and scream because you’re so completely out of control—or feel it), and the Tarzan jump, which was humoungus and terrifying and involved a few seconds of freefall before flying headlong into a rope net, which you then have to climb onto yet another tree-ledge, trusting your life to that harness the entire time.

Yeekazoids.

And the whole thing is designed in ways that don’t harm the trees or impede their growth or even dig into them. And there’s pro-ecological and pro-trees signs everywhere.

And all of this for 25 pounds. Frigging awesome.

Tomorrow is our last day already. And we’ve done nothing blessed nothing for the past couple of days. Tomorrow is Hadrian’s Wall, ancient artefact and such, but I don’t really want to go and I’ve chosen not to. I figure being crushed and stressed in the car all day for something I don’t especially want to see wouldn’t be a good use of my last day. I’d rather take the time to be alone maybe go for a walk, and enjoy the Lake District before we go.

I feel a bit guilty about not having done anything this past week but chill and be bitchy, but I think going tomorrow would just make me bitchier for the days to come.

Lah.

The Story of Buddy

2008-07-17T17:12:00.000-06:00

Let me tell you the story of Buddy. Most children have either had a Buddy or known a friend with Buddy.

Buddy is friendly-looking doll, often with a welcoming smile and big (usually blue) eyes that gaze innocently forward and that attempt to hide the fact that Buddy is PURE EVIL.

You may have heard of a rather well-known cousin of Buddy, Chucky.

Now, nobody truly knows what it is that makes these dolls so evil. Perhaps some, like Chucky, are possessed. Perhaps some are the result of juju, perhaps they have been in the possession of a less-than-stellar-hearted child. But there are a few things that all of these dolls hold in common, whatever teh cause.

The first is the inability to get rid of them. Garage sales, hiding him in closets, throwing him away... somehow he always turns up, grinning as brilliantly as ever, and as sinfully as ever.
Second is the wicked aura. You can't quite place it, but there’s something wrong about him. Something that makes you shiver involuntarily, something that causes dishes to break, people to trip, the dog to bark.

Buddy happens to be Blair and Ross’ evil doll. From before they moved to Ontario he has terrorized them, evading all attempts to dispose of him and spreading his evil charm everywhere. From the time Ross and Blair can remember, he’s been there, and since roughly a week after 5-year old Ross received him as a well-intentioned gift, the two of them have feared him and have been trying to get rid of him.

Even when they most recently moved, he was left behind in the old house only to reappear (ever-smiling) in the spare room.

Blair was explaining Buddy to the Ladies over coffee. Anne was also there, listening with an indulgent smile on her face as Blair expounded the longstanding reign of terror the doll has had over her and her brother. And, as Blair turned to her for confirmation of her description, she exclaimed:

“I thought Ross loved that doll! I’ve been bringing him everywhere and I always make sure to put him on Ross’ bed for when he comes home. Whoops!”

-dies laughing-

Oh my God, no wonder he’s so terrorized every time.

Simple (albeit very longstanding) misunderstanding?

Or has the doll been subtly influencing? Controlling, even?

I’ll let you decide.

Oh, and if your Buddy happens to be a ginger, BURN HIM!!! BURNNNN HIMMMMM!!!!! Don’t even risk it!!!

Lah.

The Kava Kava Files, Continued.

2008-07-15T13:07:00.000-06:00

Ah, joy. Yet another pub with the exact same selection of food that the last million pubs had. Whee. And it was the very first place at the very edge of the first town we hit, so it's not even GOOD pub food. And of course we're entirely ignored in favour of the two older Ladies. Which is okay, they deserve respect and such, but we're viewed by Anne (and yet not by them) as two silly little children with no say in anything.

Whee.

I really like Joan and Isobel. It's Anne who's pissing me off. She's just become more of everything with her mum around. Stab. Stabstabstabstabstabstabstab.

And she woke me out of a really good dream and a really good sleep by tickling my foot. Which I despise and is possibly one of the worst possible ways to wake ANYONE up. But even though all I wanted to do was kick her in the face, tell her to eff off and go back to sleep, I'm sure she wouldn't have given a crap about either of us being hungry when she got back from shopping and we woke up, so it was come or starve. And I was really hoping for the excellent Chinese food place that’s supposed to be only a mile up from the shitty pub we’re in.

Bah. I’m going home and locking myself up somewhere alone. Please take me with you, I’ll try not to be a nuisance.

The dream I was having was a typically messed up one for me (meaning alternate-reality type), but I was just cuddling Kell when I woke up. I had just gotten back (like three days ago) and hadn’t seen him yet. Michelle randomly dropped him off with three huge bags of Chinese Food (wow, eh? –drools-) and even though I was super happy to see him, there was something up. And we were in the living room with the whole family cuddled watching a movie or something, so I curled in next to him and we were just about to work out whatever the problem was when...

tickletickletickle GOOD MORNING!!!

Anne. Loud, annoying, snide Anne. She must have been a horrible know-it-all as a child and while younger, because she still is now under the guise of age. She can’t take anything that disagrees while her mum’s around she just listens to what you say and tells you ‘that’s nice; you’re wrong.’

I want to eat GOOD FOOD again. And that excludes the crap she cooks. STABSTABSTABSTAB

Pop pop puff puff whee!

Blair has lost her mind and is only barely holding onto the fringes of sanity. If she could, she’d be rolling in the grass giggling manically.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Family and Prettiness.

2008-07-15T01:53:00.000-06:00

The Lake District. Nothing special and yet, pretty and peaceful. We ended up skipping Lindisfarne (the true home of the cannibalistic monks, not St Mike’s Mount) and came straight here from Rosslyn. We’re sharing the (nice large) cabin with Blair’s Granny and her friend, both of whom I like so far.

The drive was meh as expected, stressful as ever but okay due to my ever-present friend Kava Kava, music, and sleeping. Like I said though, it’s peaceful here, humid and warm. I don’t know if we have any specific purpose in being here: I almost hope not because I just want to chill and avoid people. I’m just so tired, body mind and soul.

We watched The Beach earlier: excellent, excellent, excellent. Leo diCaprio will never be my favourite person but he’ll always be an amazing actor. It was one of those rollercoaster movies, leading you around by your heart. He was CRAZY! Not a heartthrob, CRAZY!!

Luckily, after we turned it off, Life or Something Like It was on, which I haven't seen for years and was just as (or at least had somewhat as much, this late at night) emotion, but with the bonus of knowing there's a happy ending, which I needed. I really needed the happy feel-good shit to chill me out and send me to sleep with, especially since even knowing she lives it's intense.

You know, I'm really lucky to have the people around me in my family. Al the laughter and freedom and happiness, all those moments where we're ourselves and we accept each other. Even Kell and I, we have our problems but in the end we accept one and other complete with faults and I wouldn't trade it.

I think about how much I miss my family now and I think of how much I'll miss them when I'm gone to Van. I wanna make sure the little time in between is as awesome as it gets. And I keep forgetting to include Christian in the family because he tries to be quiet, but it's him too.

All of them... I love them.

Although right now, certain parts of me are informing me the miss a certain aspect of my relations with Kell most.

Heh.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

The Fayre Rosslyn

2008-07-14T14:00:00.000-06:00

Here I sit in Rosslyn. Outside the Chapel but on the grounds, in a tree. It’s very pretty but very busy, and the words on everyone’s lips are “Dan Brown” (with every accent and in every language imaginable), even years later. It’s peaceful here on the grounds; I like it. It gives my tired soul a rest. The chapel is on two intersecting ley lines, apparently... but then they often are.

The inside is absolutely chock-full of awesome carvings. I would never have made them out though if not for the handy pancartes explaining everything.

Goddess bless me and those around me, especially those whom I love and who love me. Grant them love, peace and harmony, strength when it’s needed and that which will give them the best life, and the best life for our relationships.

As I will, so mote it be.

I love you, all of you, and you too Goddess.

Blessed be.

Lah.

Blair Castle

2008-07-12T11:58:00.000-06:00

Blair Castle is very Blair-like compared to all the other ruins and castles we’re seen. If I were allowed to take pictures, the thing I’d most want a picture of would be the bayonet tips formed into the shape of stars around the targes (round shields).

Luckily, Blair Castle took my mind off of the bad things that have been tearing me apart since this morning. Too bad it didn’t really put me in a better mood. It was much better than St Mike’s Mount, but there was no power there other than the power of history. Some rooms had bad vibes; one so yucky that I didn’t even go in. It was big, too, and you get to see most of the rooms. All the furniture, portraits, and tapestries are authentic and roped off for the actual safety of the pieces as opposed to foolishness.

Yay Blair Castle! Messa gonna get married there and you’ll come and take those pictures of the bayonet stars.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Taking Our Leave

2008-07-12T10:56:00.000-06:00

*sigh* I love this. It’s so pretty here.

We’re on our way out of the Highlands and down South and East to Blair Castle and then to Edinburgh. I’m watching the mist and mountains and streams pass by the windows and all the pretty things while Anne gives up the history of the monarchy and parliament in England. It’s really interesting but if I tried to retain it all my head would probably expode. In fact, I’m surprised her head doesn’t explode from all the history contained in her skull.

Wow, surprisingly few rulers in England have actually been English, as opposed to Welsh, Danish, Scots, etc. Huh.

And we’ll be in Edinburgh for Saturday night! Pubs, clubs, bars! That don’t close at 11! Gods, it’ll be awesome. We’re only in Edinburgh for 2 nights, but hey. Better than Castleton, and still in Scotland! Although not in the highlands, unfortunately. Ah well, at least Blair Castle is, so we’ll have a little more time here.

I really love the Highlands, and the Gaellic language is so pretty, although too harsh for my tongue. Not even harsh, just odd. Ach aye bonny wee lass o’er thar with the heeland coos.

I prefer the ocean in Mullion to the ocean we’ve seen in Skye and Scotland. The staidness of the lochs and inlets and softly lapping waves doesn’t compare to the crashing in Cornwall. Then again, the cliffs don’t beat the misty crystal mountains and streams constantly falling down. Pity that it’s all mild (yay!) but never really hot.

But it’s all gorgeous!

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Flying Through the Air With The Greatest of Ease

2008-07-10T22:53:00.001-06:00

Whee, what an excellent day!

First of all, yesterday I had the house to myself for the morning, so that chilled me out considerably. Then, on the boat tour we did, I meditated at the loch and asked the goddess to let go of my anger and bitterness.

And I did!

This morn I had a nice long chat with Anne and cleared up a lot of shit, which helped clear my heart as well. We went to Fort William, and finally took the Ferry! It was funky, a huge one like the one Kell and me took to Bowen Island. Oh, and I splurged outrageously and spent 10 pounds on a teeny tank top at an awesome shop next to where the ferry picked us up.

Our trip to Fort William had two purposes: one, Anne found a really nice house and wants to possibly buy it and move here (I love the house and it’s got oodles of property including a barrow on it), so she had to talk to the solicitor about the nitty gritty details.

Two, there’s an awesome hike to these falls in Glen Nevis (Valley of DEATH... or... you know... whatever Nevis means) that involves a cable rope bridge over a river. And when i say ‘cable’, I mean a single cable, with two other cables on either side to hang onto.

It didn’t look too bad. I mean, I expected it to be over like a gorge, not just ten or twenty feet over a river. But that’s still high enough.

I went first. It was AWESOME!!

Yeah, I’m weird. But I loved it. It was only slightly (?!?) terrifying, and just barely that. Then again, I’d spent the hike meditating and charging myself with the elements. Also, there was oodles of quartz sunk into everything. Let’s not forget that the mountains here (unlike the limestone Rockies) are all made of quartz. Uber amplifiers, anyone? I also had a huge chunk I picked up in my bag with me.

So maybe I was a little high on power.

Although the first time the cable started swinging did make me a little nervous until I focused on it to stop.

Typically, even though it was Blair insisting that we go there in the first place, two steps in she started squealing and freaking out and changing her mind. I goaded her halfway across and by then it was too late to change her mind.

Anne couldn’t get onto the cable at all. See, you kinda have to lift yourself up; there’s no step or ladder. So I went back across and helped her by giving her a knee up.

She did well until the cable started shaking and swaying as it always does near the middle, and then she slowed a little.

Then, in the blink of an eye her feet were gone, and she was frozen in midair for a moment—long enough to wonder if she’d hang there by her arms or even fly—then she was falling, the shock on her face almost comical as she broke the surface and sank. The river looked shallow, enough that I wondered whether she’d hurt herself on the rocks, but it was deep enough, about 12 feet from her reckoning.

She swam towards me, gasping ‘cold’ over and over. It was a dark misty, rainy cool day to begin with, and it was after five when we started the over-a-mile hike, so the water must have been freezing. After I helped her ashore she was okay, except for the cold, and we had nothing to give her clothes-wise that would fit.

To make the rest of the long story short, because my fingers are cramped and I’m exhausted, after we’d ascertained her okayness, Blair waded across a shallow part in the river back and stayed with her Mama while I went back again across the bridge and did the final bit to the waterfall, where I meditated a bit more and dunked my head—this was my plan all along but Anne’s fall gave me courage to actually dunk a few times—before rejoining them. Everyone was still in remarkably good spirits, and we all made our three-person-ed way back together, one in front and one in back of Anne to help her back over the steep up-and-down hike.

Luckily, when we got back to the car the electronic car key still worked. And luckily, she had just given me back my camera before she crossed, so only her cheap one got soaked.

Thank god she didn’t bring her uber expensive one!!

I was impressed, overall. The way wasn’t easy, but she made it despite everything, with only the occasional hand up or down and only a single break or two.

And everyone managed to stay happy.

Goddess bless.

Lah.

Sheep Roadblock!!

2008-07-08T15:49:00.000-06:00

Oh, yay! We’re in the equivalent of the Highlands of Skye. Meaning in the mountains, with the cliffs and waterfalls running over the rocks and uber crystals. Mm, this is the part I love.

You know, idling bugs me. I don’t know whether it’s the waste in gas or the wear on the enrivonment, but it really bugs me and has ever since I started driving. And Anne always idles the car, for whatever reason. Maybe because she’s used to the Prius. I subtly brought it up and she was like “oh yeah I know, I hate it when people idle! I ALWAYS turn my car off.”

-twitches-

I dunno why it bugs me so much more these days than usual. Could be that we’re always in the car and she stops so frequently to read maps and such. Could be just another of those little irritations that blow so much out of proportion because I’m so utterly sick of her presence... like her constant (awkward, uncomfortable) laughter or a million other tiny insignificant things.
I’ve admitted their true insignificance to myself, but they continue to get to me, so my new technique is turning up my music and tuning it all out.

It’s the only way to preserve my sanity for the next few weeks. Still a month to go.

Everything’s got a price. And maybe it’s some sort of sign that as I write this, the two last times she stopped, she turned off the car immediately both times.

Yay!!!

This is what I’ve been reduced to.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Fred

2008-07-07T14:47:00.000-06:00

We just passed a school zone sign that’s been knocked over. Bad sign.

We’re on our way to civilisation. Kinda. We already tried the nearest town and it only has a post office, bar, and a general store... that’s it.

So off we go on a half-hour drive to the next closest. STAB.

The sheep here are strange looking. And apparently the Highland Cows (Heeland coos) looked crossed with sheep and have horns, although I’ve yet to see one.

We’ve got a pet, of sorts. The aldy told us there’s a friendly pig that comes to visit. “Awesome!!” I thought. Then, Fred showed up.

You know the pig you think of when someone talks of a huge disgusting pig? That’s Fred.

Humoungus, hairy, filthy, and smelly, with an enormous upturned snout. The kind I would imagine that pig farmer in BC fed those butchered whores too. Very Lord of the Flies.

Yummy.

I’d prolly like him better if her weren’t so dirty and smelly.

And how’d we end up in the part of Skye/Scotland that looks less like pretty green BC and more like Alberta if Ab had more rain? I mean, we’re passing gorgeous places (although I still don’t think it’s as pretty as the mainland), yet where we’re staying is all long yellow grass and such.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

The Isolation of Skye.

2008-07-05T20:40:00.000-06:00

Well, Skye’s out in the middle of nowhere, which I expected. What I didn’t expect is how far we are from even the civilisation in Skye.

Four miles. That’s how far the closest ANYTHING is: pub, store, PERSON (with the exception of the occasional farm or old person). And although Anne misled us with the hole thing, she can’t understand why we’re pissed and insisted we talk it out and try to resolve it. But see, there’s no ‘resolving it’, at this point: what’s done is done. And trying to justify it is admirable, but she doesn’t understand and getting in my face with me trying to explain (which I suck at, incidentally, unless I have time to think and write) just frustrated me and pisses me off.

Especially since she still continues to judge and tries to tell you what’s wrong with you while ignoring anything that’s wrong with her.

The two of us and her are just on two completely different levels.

So I took another Kava Kava and came out here to get away, think, and (it seems) cry.

I don’t know what I want, apart from people I know and can relate to, emphasis on the latter. People OTHER than Blair and Anne. I’m sick of their company but sick of my own too. If last week was the week in London or Edinburgh and really busy, then I’d love it here to recuperate and chill and be alone. But it wasn’t. It was spent with nobody except those two, and that’s how this week’ll be too. A big nothing. Can’t evem go to the beach or swim, here. I’m bored, lonely, and worst of all I DONT KNOW WHAT I WANT, only that it’s NOT THIS.

I need males. Pot. Not as a crutch but as a habit I enjoy. Mama mentioned once that people like us smoke because it helps us relate to people without being overcome by them. Like a different kind of shield.

Not to mention in situations like this it really helps one relax and wile away the empty hours. I just spent two days in a car doing nothing. I’m bord now because I’ve been at a lack of things to do for a while, and now that I’m free there’s nothing more to do.

Anne said snidely that I like to run.

Great way to describe her, snide.

I wanted to stab her.

Maybe so, but I’m aware of it and have my own ways of dealing with problems. When it’s something that’s my own problem that I need to work through, like this, I need to be alone and think and chill. Trying to explain this to her while she makes a snide comment (meaning judgment) at the end of every sentence I speak and yet still manages not to understand just makes me want to stab her more.

For all her supposed wisdom, she understands teenagers absolutely zero. She tried to use herself as a measuring stick for everyone. She doesn’t get that we’re not just different people, teens are literally a different species. We think differently and react differently.

We’re not just mini-adults all the time. We’re teens. Not just immature, DIFFERENT.

Stab stab stab stab.

And no relief by internet or even phone.

I want to smash my head against a tree until it’s bloody. You’d break the tree with your face.

Whew. I feel better slightly, having vomited all that out.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

Scotland!

2008-07-05T18:37:00.000-06:00

Wow. Scotland.

If Mullion was pretty, this is stupendous. We’re surrounded by… Not mountains exactly but huge rolling hills. Everything is painted in shades of green, and even the pines and other conifers are all bright pretty green, not the drab colour I’m used to in Canada. And the lakes--lochs?--sparkle grey-blue. It just goes on forever, gorgeous and barely touched by the harsh fingers of man. The road(s) are swallowed by the vastness of the beauty.

Apparently, the population use to be 5x even what it is today, b4 they all got chucked out by the lowland Scots and the English.

And here we are in Glencoe. For a place so untouched by man, it’s got a pretty long bloody history. Guess the Mother takes it all back in the end, regardless of the winners.

Oooh, a sithen!

I love it here, and I mean I LOVE it here. It actually reminds me of BC, but MORE and more untouched.

That could be Ysanne’s cottage by the lake. Mm, smell the loveliness and the rain.

Wow, look at those waterfalls. They look so clear and tiny, just a trickle, but I have a feeling distances can be deceiving here. And everything is misty. If I could, I’d be sticking my head out the window like a dog with my tongue lolling out.

Oooh, I like the poofy-looking cotonny plant things!

Remind me to put out food for the fae. We forgot the plate out with the Faeries… <3

Lah.

Bah.

2008-07-05T04:36:00.000-06:00

Make them go away.

Can’t I trade something/someone?

I’m lonely. Or maybe not lonely enough.

Just everyone leave me alone tomorrow, okay?

LEAVE ME ALONE.

Lah.

Party Up In Castleton

2008-07-05T02:03:00.000-06:00

Woo. Finally, an awesome night!

Until we got home, of course. When we got home, we discovered that Anne had closed the window with the username and password for the internet we paid for. Which we couldn’t access again without putting in.
This is where the Kava Kava really started a-popping

And she decided she didn’t want to pay for the internet we needed to access it. ‘Maybe in the morning’. When we would have lost all the time we already paid for. So we had to pay again.

Yay for bitches. STAB. Good thing Blair ended up getting refunded for that extra payment.

But anyways. Went pub crawling. Met actual PEOPLE OUR OWN AGE!! And then spent a few hours chilling with a couple we embarrassingly met in the loo. Ahem.

Then, when we were preparing to go home, we met a whole bunch of guys (one who’d been hitting on Blair for hours) and all but one were complete dicks.
EW barf ew I thought he was going to puke on me, or I was gonna puke on him.

He offered to buy us a drink, but all the pubs closed at 11 (WHY?!?!?!?!?!) except a couple (meaning ONE, the one we’d been in for hours). And eventually his dumb drunk friends caught up with us, and made the mistake of calling Blair a prostitute.

Whee. Drama.

And speaking of Drama, the 1st set of friends we’d made were all on about this chick Meghan, who slept with someone else’s boyfriend and got blamed for everything, although I think the boyfriend was just as much to blame and a complete retard besides.

Anyways. Second set of friends were early 30s and out on vaycay from 2 kids. Awkward meeting (for Blair) but awesome drunken convos. Got their emails, too.

And as for the third set, the nice one got a kiss on the cheek (and he wanted wayyy more), a lick on the face (deprived of human contact, *TWITCH*) and a kiss on the lips from both of us (at some point, not both at once).

And in return we got we got what was left of a pint of beer thrown on us by his jealous asshole drunk friend. Well, mostly on Blair, or at least more than on me.

If only we had such nights every night, instead of isolation!! Personally, I think the whole internet thing was psychological revenge for us having fun. Especially since she waited up for us.

Woo.

Erg. Hiccups.

Erg. Litre of water in one go. Ima be ill again.

The Castle Inn is pretty and awesome, though. And if we were staying a couple more hours, I could have gotten something to smoke. Bleah. Even 10 AM, instead of leaving at 8, and it would be mine!! But poo.

And up to £140 an O. Damnnn, skippy.

But I don’t care. It’d be worth it.

I foresee Kava Kava in my future tomorrow.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.

The Mad Sheep

2008-07-04T18:31:00.000-06:00

We’re finally almost there. What was supposed to be a 5-6 hour trip turned out to be (so far) an 8 ½ hour trip. I was reading Christopher Moore out loud before, entertaining both Blair and Anne (and myself: I love reading aloud) but then we hit roundabouts and I had to shut up so Anne could hear the Nuvi. We came out of town onto a bunch of 10-mile stretches of empty road, but she wouldn’t let me keep reading.

Guess Mr. Moore’s just too interesting with his gas-tanker-loving sea monsters…

My ass hurts.

We just passed some of Anne’s old stomping grounds from her university days. How boring, no drinking, drugs or sex under the railways and aqueducts. In fact, very little drinking or sex at all.

Psh.

Then again, I’m not intending to do oodles of drinking in Uni myself. But I intend to make up for it with the other ones. In mild quantities, of course.

Whee! Here we are, in Castleton.
Civilisation! Guys our age, and good-looking to boot! Yay!!

--
We passed by many caves on the way in, and many spray-painted sheep.

Kinda makes you think that a sheep could get lost in said caves, with the ‘baa’ magnifying to gargantuan proportions until a simple sheep became a horribly terrifying monster that terrorized tourists and locals alike.

You would hear it approaching, coming closer and closer, as you tried to avoid quaking in terror despite yourself. And as you wonder whether to give into fear and turn and run, the terrible cry of the monster is almost unbearable. You’re about to say ‘fuck bravery, I’m out!’ when from around the corner comes the beast, bringing you face to face with your fear:

A tiny little lamb, bleating in fear itself as it looks around for its mama.

Teehee.

2008-07-04T12:30:00.000-06:00

Vive les Moutons!!

-sighs with pleasure-

Finally. Fooooooood. And my bladder no longer requires a gargantuan amount of concentration to keep under control. I’m full, and not full of pee!

Fyah…
Hah, I miss Kai.

G'Bye Mullion

2008-07-04T10:29:00.000-06:00

G’bye, Mullion.

Off to Castleton. This morn, I said goodbye to the cliffs and my sanity. Packing and going wasn’t nearly as smooth and easy as Avebury was, probably partially because we didn’t get fed first. And still haven’t.

Pop, pop! Goes the Kava kava. For Blair this time, not me.

Oh yeah, and I’m ill. Throat thick and sore, even more phlegm-y than usual. Whee. I tried to choke it with
Citric Acid and water this morning, but who knows?

Ska is my best friend.

WHEN ARE WE GONNA STOP?!?

I’m starving. Starting to feel the symptoms, whee. And I have to pee. Erg. All that orange juice and water probably not such a good idea, I guess.

OMG!! A car with three wheels!! Driving…. o.O

Yay For Postcards!

2008-07-03T21:27:00.001-06:00

So, up we climbed to the castle. Well, first we had to cross to the island it's on. We walked across a causeway on a reef to get there. Luckily, it was low tide, because it was obvious that causeway wouldn't be there at high tide, and if we were on the other side we'd be stranded at the abbey with cannibalistic monks.

After we arrived on the 'island' was when we started to climb.

Again.

This trip seems to involve an inordinate amount of stairs and climbing. But hey, tis exercise!

The walk up the pilgrim steps and up the rest was pretty. There was a Giant's Well, where if you open it you can still see the Giant's wife's eye. Which we didn't test because I didn't read about that until after we left. Apparently, she's under the island.

o.O

Anyways, the view form the top where the castle itself is was cool. GOing inside, it quite franklu sucked. Everything was fake and display-like. I guess there's a family that still lives there (minus the servants and prestige of ye old days), although they share it with the National Trust (who seems to own every historical site). I took pictures and was severely chastised by a tourist "guard".

One of the only places of note in the castle-thing was the church, which despite my shields had me almost in tears after barely 5 minutes. But there was power there (obviously). There was one statue of St Michael slaying a demon that hit me, though whether good, bad, sad, or just the Christian-ness of it all, I don't know.

Barf on the fake-ness of the mount. The energy of the ley line had been sucked out by the updated tourist-yness of it. No longer a great abbey of power and energy, now just a tourist amusement park without the rollercoasters.

So true.

Also, a random spot or two where there was uber energy, but again ambigious. The again, energy itself isn't positive or negative, it's the intentions with it. Still, it didn't feel like pure energy. It left me... uneasy.

From the outside of the abbey, on one of the towers, we could see the causeway, not just barely underwater. Bu the time we finished the rest, it was more that 'barely', and we were forced to pay to boat back. Or stay and be eaten bu the cannibalistic moks.

Although after actually seeing the place, I'd be more afraid of the tourist guards.

After we got back to shore, we clambered back into the car and starved our way back home.

<3>

Lah.

Positive Programming for Your Soul.

2008-07-03T13:22:00.000-06:00

Positive Vibration, yeah.
positif!
(gotta have a good vibe)
Jah Love, Jah Love, protect us!

We're on our way to Mont St Michel, and I'm listening to ska. And we're passing by the airfield/military base/Cornish answer to Area 51, with the double barbed wire topping the 15-foot fence.

And pump that pussy.

I love the rain here. Blue skies and sun and still it rains. And the rain is warm!

AHA!!! IT IS A CASTLE!!!

Sorry, but several miles back I saw a castle in the distance and did a double take, only for it to haev disappeared. Every time we came to a gapin the bushes, I looked but couldn't see it, so finally I gave it up for lost.

NOT SO! I just saw it again, larger than life (or perhaps the same size as)! And as it turns out, it not only exits, it's St Michael's Mount, our destination.

Cool.

Lah.

Uber Waves

2008-07-02T23:53:00.001-06:00

Lah!!

Well, we didn't make it to St Michael's Mount yesterday, and by 'didn't make it' I mean everyone slept in and then we were too lazy. So, tomorrow it is. And tomorrow happens to be our last day in Mullion. Friday, we take off for Castleton overnight and then Skye!

I made use of the day to do all the things I had intended for tomorrow. Me and Blair walked down to Poldhu Cove, where the beach was very wide and the sand was pebbly. The waves there were surfing waves, large and foamy and crashing down onto the shore. The tide was coming in; an amazing thing to see. We stood with the waves cresting ten feet in front of us and the foamy surf lapping at our feet.

Some surfers (the closest thing to cute young males we've seen yet) ran by us and didn't even spare a glance at us before wading out to sea; watching them go headfirst through the waves to continue out to sea was something that invoked mild awe and respect for their slight insanity.

One surprise mother wave came crashing into shore far past where the other ones barely touched our ankles, to soak my skirt past my knees and continue all the way up to the rocks I'd prudently placed my stuff on top of. It soaked a chick lying where she'd thought would be out of reach of the water.

Teehee, it was AWESOME!!

After that, we moved our stuff even higher on the rocks, and stripped down to bras and undies. I held my scarf-skirt behind me to billow in the wind like a cape, trying to dry it as much as possible.

I watched the waves crash again and again, so close and yet so far. The power of them was insanely strong and beautiful.

Finally, it was time to get wet. The waves were getting more powerful as the tide moved in, closely followed by what promised to be quite the storm. I saw waves flying towards me and waded in, running towards the more powerful side, watching it crest, break, and come roaring towards me. I willed them to break again against me and send spray up in a geyser, nearly knocking me over with the force of it.

There aren't really words to describe the feeling of watching those huge waves coming straight for you. The fear, excitement, helplessness, and sheer power. Wanting to be part of the wave. Surrendering to it.

I've seen huge waves before, been on beaches, but never stood on a beach to watch one come for me. Each time was terrifying and made me want more, even as I stumbled to keep my balance.

The last time, I was so far in the in that the wave itself hit me, not just the rushing aftermath. It hit me on the dry(ish) beach waist-, maybe chest-high, pushed me almost fully down with the force of it, and soaked me head to toe. I can still brush salt from my eyebrows, hours later.

That's when I (we) surrendered to the rainclouds and gathered our things, and started clambering back up the steep steps cut into the hill and back down the path towards home, shivering. Blair was also soaked, having dunked her dreads before me, but not quite so extensively.

It was raining by the time we hit the path.

Speaking of hair, I hennaed my hair orange this morn. Well, "copper", but seeing how my hair was blond to begin with instead of dark brown, orange was what I expected and received. Gorgeous dark orange that I@m very fond of, partially because it's strangely natural-looking. The henna deep-conditioned my hair too, making it shine beautifully

YAY!

Lah.

We also hit the chocolate shop and the hotel for computer-ness. I spoke to Kai and Mama and Savvy, and learned that Kell's on his way to Sasketchewan.

Anyways, I'm exhausted and it's early-ish up tomorrow so me go try and sleep. Gnight.

Canada Day and a Theatre by the Sea.

2008-07-01T22:32:00.004-06:00

Yay, Canada!! Happy Canada day!!

In honour of the country I love, I dressed up all in red and white, and Blair and I covered ourselves in Canada stickers and went to steal toilet paper and internet from the fancy hotel next door.

Unfortunately, there our plans went wrong. I had TP duty but couldn't get the cover off the dispenser to grab the roll, and so was forced to just unravel sheet after sheet into my bag. Meanwhile, Blair's laptop was still refusing to connect to any wireless network.

Luckily, there's a complimentary compie for guests to chekc their email and such on. How convenient!! Despite my not being a guest, nobody questioned our presence.

Upon signing onto my email, I learned that a war has been going on in my absence, between Fil and Kai. And what a war!

Kai, Kai, rah rah rah!!!

He's awesome!!

I was a big part of this war, it seems, absence notwithstanding. And both Mama and Kai have been fighting on my behalf, but mostly Kai.

I have such an awesome brother.

And Mama, whom I messaged, kept assuring me not to worry about Lord Doofus (my name, not hers).

Worry? Why should I, of all of us, care about him? I'm away for over a month yet, and moving immediately after I get back. I'm more worried about Kai and Mum; some of the shit he said in his last angry email was harsh, although so utterly ridiculous as to be be hilarious.

Anyways, speaking of moving, I GOT MY FUNDING!!!!!

-does happy dance-

That cuts the last tie that I'd need him for. Although I could still sue him for tuition if I chose, according to Anne. But "how will I pay" is no longer hanging at the edge of my thoughts, thank the goddess. Faith only goes so far.

Actually, that's not true. Faith does go that far. But the mundane world crashes in every once in a while.

Back to here: two other things of import happened today: the first, a heated discussion with Anne. Now, these happen quite regularly, and are pleasing to both of us, but today's was more vehement than most.

See, we were trying to explain two different things to each other from two different points of view. So, understandably, we both got frustrated. Now, normally I'd be like whatever, move on, but a chord struck deep.

It all started with her askimg whether Mama and Brian were just friends, or friends with benefits. She always wants to know a lot about Mama because I think she sees a lot of Mama in her and her in Mama and wants to know as much as possible, if that makes sense.

Now, I replied that I didn't really know and didn't really care enough to know. This led to her asking why I didn't want to know, and why wouldn't I want to know about Mama's sex life? To me, the whole situation with Mama and Brian isn't me actively evading the knowledge, it's just not inquiring further about the information since neither of them have chosen to volunteer it.

The problem lay more in what came next. See, she believes that to be close to someone is to share every detail about one's life with them, and as the other person you should want to know. No secrets, because to her that equals hiding something which equals lying which equals hurt. Her own personal issues, thanks to her history with her own Lord Doofus. Now, I definitely don't agree with this philosophy. There are some things that are private because they lose something in the sharing, and some things that just plain aren't your business. I, of course, told her this.

Then she continued the discussion by asking how I think this point of view (mine) affects my writing, since she also believes the same thing of writing. This is where things got personal and emotional for me, because writing is my passion and I know I'm an excellent writer. I snidely wanted to point out that her point of view is probably why she's not a good writer, but since I haven't read her writing and was feeling nasty, I kept it to myself. I tried instead to explain that in writing a novel, you're guiding the reader towards certain emotions, realizations and thoughts, and to do so you can't just give them all the info at once; you have to choose which things you divulge in order to further that.

Then she said nothing personal, but someone who did that was no different than a politician or anyone else looking to manipulate someone to their own devious ends. Implying (to me) that I was looking hurt those other people.

Woah, Skippy. Hold the phone. Don't take it personally? Part of me understood we had two different kinds of writing and manipulation in mind, that she had self-admitted issues about what she percieved as 'keeping secrets', even as author-to-reader. But still.

It didn't help that I've learned that absolutely everything has to have deeper meaning to her. 'Why didn't Dakota/Colleen/Mama participate more in pole dancing? That Colleen and Dakota physically couldn't, she accepted with difficulty. And Mama? She decided that having planned and paid for it, she had earned the right to sit out and watch after a round or two.

But no. There has to be more to it. WHO CARES IF THERES MORE TO IT, THAT WAS ENOUGH OF AN EXPLANATION FOR ME!

"So then I have to ask, what do you think she's afraid of?"

I. Am. So. Fucking. Sick. Of. Her. Questions.

Judgments, even. Because even though they're for her own curiousity, I want to sew her mouth shut sometimes.

Everything has to be read deeper into, and all her thoughts are assertions. You're required to defend everything like a thesis to convince her she's wrong. She'll accept a new idea, fine, but you have to back it up extremely thoroughly. Which often pushes me to become--surprise!--defensive.

I feel bad (don't be!) about getting so pissed off at her because she's a good person at heart and has done a lot for me, so I've been suppressing these thoughts until they could come spilling out onto paper, if not spilling out with perfect clarity.

God save me from professors. And let's not forget that she often mistakes trusting her first instinct with trusting her first thought. Two very different things indeed.

But enough about her. I could keep bitching all night, but then my fingers would be too cramped to write about the Minack Theatre and Jason, the play we saw there.

The Minack is an outdoor theatre built in the 1920s into the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Totally awesome, and the acoustics were amazing, although by the end of the night, I was wearing 4 layers and a blanket just to keep warm. the damp had also set into my joints so that I could barely walk, and now everytime I sniffle, the mucous tastes of salt.

Cool play, too. It consisted of 2 men and 3 women playing every role of the classic (ish) greek tragedy with a comedic twist. y first encounter with Jason was when he heroically made his entrance with one leg propped up on the row above me, conveniently placing his nether regions in my face, around eye-level 6 inches away. His toga ended above his knees when he was standing normally, so let's not even talk about the heights it achieved hiked up like that.

We were sitting like third row from the stage, near the end. The seats were quite literally hewn from the cliffside. The higher ones were long benches with grass cleverly grown on them for padding (ish), but down where we were, we actually had individually carved seats (kinda).

The play itself was fairly funny (and supremely weird in that way that only the Brits have), with added creepiness and much confusion. And it continued to be funny until the last bit, where the tragedy suddenly kicks in and takes over the humour completely. It ends with Medea killing her twin babies as she does in the real tragedy of the that name. Oh, and let's not forget taking out of the holy water the red-soaked cloths that represented her babies AND LOOKED LIKE INTESTINES!!!

Whee.

Oh, and there were amazing and strange plants growing all around there, all huge and all indescribable. I tried to take pickies to express the things that for once, words can't.

Blessed be.

Pink is Blair.

Lah.

Sand Escape

2008-06-30T17:36:00.000-06:00

Here we are, at Kynance Cove, lying on on the beach. I just finished my time in the ocean, body-checking waves and getting pummelled in return. The water's too sandy though, and too full of seaweed for me to fully enjoy the water or swimming.

Anne's sitting in the shade on the Serpentine rocks, watching the waves and us. Blair's a couple of feet away, sitting inside the moat and wall of sand she built. And I'm lying here on my rainbow-coloured sarong, with the sun kissing my skin and a faint taste of salt on my lips.

I love sarongs. Skirt, shirt, sweater, curtain, hair covering... the list goes on. And on a beach, they're much better to lie on than a towel since they're big, thin, and don't catch and keep sand the way towels do.

I have a pet peeve about sand in my orifices, especially without a clear ocean to dunk it off in. My "dunk" earlier has me covered in seaweed. I even found some between the extra material in the crotch of my bathing suit and the bikini itself.

But I'm happy, and my jewelry, hair, skin, and soul all loved the water. I ran in and let the waves dunk me, then faced them full on and jumped into them as they crested and broke and slammed against me. It was as if we were two drunk frat boys going UNH and banging their chests into each other.

Heh.

Well, maybe not the best analogy, but you get the idea. Companionship and joy that need to be expressed physically. And now, a constant shower of sand from my dried hair, and a constant retreat from the encroaching shade as the sun lowers beneath the huge rocks surrounding us. A retreat both for us and for the lowering tide.

And there's no hiding from the sand.

It always amazes me how quickly the tide goes in and out. Each wave is further out or in than the last, the movement unstoppable. And then there's the knowledge that the same ovean is breaking on shores all over the worls, and my tough of the water here will eventually touch someone in Van, Quebec, Barbados, Jamaica.

People are clearing out now. Towels are being folded and rolled, and children (including hopefully the little demon child who kicked sand at me) are being collected and led away. The shadows are moving faster than the tide, and already we're lying on a damp beach from our retreat into the tides.

Soon, we'll be forced into an area where the waves will lap at our feet, and soon after that it'll be a choice to lie in the waves or finally leave.

But I'm ready to leave if need be. It's been a nice communion.

Muah, my love. I'll be back.

Lah.

Mullion

2008-06-28T20:34:00.000-06:00

And now I sit by the harbour, listening to the waves break.

Ah, Mullion.

What a beautiful view, gorgeous cliffs, and a permanent mist over the green green cliffs. The humidity in the air caresses my skin, and the salt in the air touches my eyes, not enough to stink but enough that I can feel it.

Ah, Goddess.

Lah.

The Mists of Avalon.

2008-06-28T13:25:00.002-06:00

Glory, glory, glory
Beauty and power.
Here I sit, on Glstonbury Tor.
Glory Love and Marvelousness.
Beauty and power.

We arrived in Glastonbury proper--the festival is technically in Pilton, but I guess that doesn't sound as pretty--and weren't even gonna go up to the Tor (which is how I had consoled myself about the festival)!!

Although it seemed like quite the walk so I don't blame Anne for wanting to do it herself. I really wanted to though, and was much gratified when Blair agreed.

So the two of us climbed the Tor, step by step.

It sucked, but not nearly so bad as I thought it would from the distance, and not even as bad as Wreck beach in Van.

I'm also amazed at what good shap I'm in. Blair was dead but determined halfway up, and I only started to wheeze on the last stretch.

--

Yeah, yeah. I get it. Sometimes, Anne's theories of everything get irritating. Yes, I understand you're suppoesd to do everything with love and your full attention, even eating, but I don't need to hear it explained 4 million times what I already know as if it's an enormous new concept being explained to a schoolchild.

But I smiled and nodded. Anne's been good to us.

--

Anyways, I was talking about Glastonbury Tor.

When we got to the top, we were well rewarded for our efforts. The biew was entrancing,a nd I took a million and 2 pictures. The tower at the top was very tall, but not very big or wide. Just an open room with two arches on either side. I wonder how it was when they built it. Apparently, they originally built the thingie to St Michael, the dragon--meaning pagan--slayer Saint, as an "I am Christian, hear me roar, pagan scum!" monument, since the Tor was the site for oofles of rituals back in the day. It's on the St Michaels ley line, too. It's also a triangle with Stonehenge and Avebury.

We were gonna go to Stonehenge but since we forgot yesterday and you can't het close anyways, we all agreed to skip it. Part of me really wanted to see it since it's such a famous site, but the rest said to leave it in favour of other things and that it wouldn't be worth it, so I abandoned the potential bragging rights and voted for skipping it.

Back to the Tor again.

So, because you can never really give a "fuck you" to Mother Nature without eventual retribution, the tower was soon hopelessly destroyed in an Earthquake.

So they rebuilt it.

And then, I believe something else happened to it (a fire..?) leaving it the (albeit impressive) ruin it is today.

But wahtever the original purpose, it's on Earth's side now. Stepping into the archway to go inside, the wind slammed into my back, whipping my scarf around me and billowing into my clothers. There's real power in that wind, oodles of it, and it (the wind) stops immediately when you take even one more step.

But for that instant, framed against the arch, the wind fills you.

While Blair caught her breath and did whatever inside the thingie, I chose to go lay on the hill and absorb, catch my breath. I found the hill itself cooler than the abbey-thing. The view by itself is incredible; all of Glastonbury's visible. I'm sure if I looked hard enough, I could see the festival from there.

And then there was the ever-present hum.

You know, they say there's most likely a spiral maze inside the Tor. There are definitely many tunnels underneath, and people have been known to disappear and turn up in them, although since all the tennuls are closed at this point in time, I can't imagine that turning out too well these days.

As for all the Arthurian stuff, I don't know and don't really care. That place was there long before him and'll be there long after even the memory of him is gone.

I do wish I could see it as it was before the buildings and the grass, when it was an island called Avalon. It was misty over the Tor when we arrived, but by the time we started climbing it was all burned off by the sun.

Land between living and dead it may be, but in bright sunlight the effect just isn't quite the same.

Lah.

What Might Have Been.

2008-06-28T12:17:00.001-06:00

OH. MY. GOD.

I HAVE NEVER SEEN SO MANY HIPPIES IN MY LIFE!!!

The Glastonbury festival in the biggest such festival on Earth, bigger than Woodstock was, with a band list that took up an entire sheet of paper in size 6 font.

And it's on right now!! Less than a mile away!! The hill was absolutely COVERED in tents and rainbow colours and hippies and music!!

And we're not going.

-cries-

We just drove by and had to settle for waving at the people we passed.

"Too expensive for just a day. Most people go for the whole 3-ish days... and we just don't have time."

DONT HAVE TIME?!? I would have taken off half the week in Mullion to go, paid my own way too. CHANCE OF A LIFETIME, ANYONE?!?

-cries again-

And pot... I could have gotten pot...

Lah.

Children Left Unattended Will Be Sold as Slaves.

2008-06-28T10:09:00.000-06:00

So, the pub we ended up going to (in the NEXT VILLAGE) turned out to be excellent. And entertaining.

And now it's morning, and we're on our way to Glastonbury!

Checkout this morning consisted of brekkie made by the awesome dude who lugged our luggage up the steep flight of stairs when we first arrived (and who owns the place with his wife), giving back keys to the same awesome dude , putting shit in the car, and having a fag. Easy and painless. And we finally got the voice working on the Nubi, whish Anne seems more inclined to listen to than us. Or maybe our way today is just more straightforward.

I guess we'll see!

Blair surfed the net last night, but the moment I got on it, it stopped working. Or maybe she got off of it because it stopped working, and neglected to mention it.

Whatever; either way, we didn't check this morning and the woman was telling us the cottage we're going to next has "one of them fancy V-something-Esses that plays those cassettes!" And "a gameboy that plugs into the TV!!" for if we get bored.

Somehow, I doubt there'll be internet there.

Ah, well!

Lah.

With the Bad.

2008-06-27T18:30:00.000-06:00

Woo.

I'm freezing, starving, and exhausted. And vaguely irritated, due to all three and Anne's bossiness and Blair's Blair-ness.

See, Anne doesn't trust technology. So although she gets me to locate us frequently on the handy Nuvi (GPS), she just as frequently doubts it and ignores its directions. It doesn't help that the Nuvi is often confusing--because the UK itself is confusing, with tiny roads, stunted cars, a definitive lack of traffic lights and a surplus of tiny traffic circles to replace them.

She also decided that instead of eating in Bath, where we just came from, we should drive allllll the way back to Avebury instead. Which proves that she doesn't know teens too well.

And of course, she's way too hot because we were walking around quite a bit and so she needs the freezing cold air turned on full blast.

So here Blair and I sit, bitchy and hungry, with Blair occasionally throwing out doubtful comments about the road/direction we're going in, making we want to throttle (or maybe eat) her, since it's hard enough to get Anne to follow directions spawned by the Nuvi, even if they've already been cross-referenced to the physical map (which she insists on, usually).

Pop goes the Kava Kava!

Oh, and Blair talked me into buying a PVC bustier that fits like a glove, for the low, low price of £40.

Bitch.

--

...Aaaaand all the tables at the pub we drove all this way for are completely booked, since it's Friday night and we didn't call ahead.

On to the next village.

Whee.

Oh, well.

Lah.

Shaved trees and such.

2008-06-27T13:00:00.001-06:00

West Kennett Long Barrow is one huge ridge with enormous underground burial chambers (although they were sealed permanently and purposefully 4000 years ago). And oak tree with prayer ribbons who gave me a leaf, and a huge Sycamore tree I sat in and who also gave me a leaf.

And then there were the stones. The amazing, amazing stones. They're big and gorgeous and surrounded bya ditch, that was originally a gorge with a big chalk wall around, grown over now, but the path is still set in it.

Anne is all about "why?", but I think that she needs to understand that sometimes, it doesn't matter. Her deduction is that the entire thing is an amplifier (which it definitely isS), with the stones as antennae. I agree, although it wasn't until I walked up the chalk hill path that it hit me with a wave of humming power. Those walls are amping it out, not in.

I kissed the stones, gave and asked my blessings, and in some cases, just said hello. Each one was different, although I don't think they are people, as such. They did have very individual personalities, though. One was so friendly I hugged him. Another, I touched my nose to and put up shields with, and used it to link into the ground. That one blessed me with a drop of water.

And then there was the center, with the Grandmammy and Daddy, off to the side watching over them.

It felt like everything in the fields of Avebury was deliberately places, every tree and bush. I wonder how old some of them are, how the humoungous trees must have once been babies, and I wonder which ancient trees have lived and gone in the lifetime of the stones. How aware these stones must be!

And lying on ley lines, to boot. Walking up to the barrow to the tomb, there was an exact line where I felt it. I looked up, and I could see the first stone of the tomb just over the crest of the hill. On the way back, I suddenly looked up again and turned, and it was the same spot.

Silbury hill we saw from a distance, particularly from the Barrow. It's a huge man-made hill where I think some important dead dude was buried. It just looks like a random hill in the middle of lots of fields, and it doesn't feel uber the way some of the other stuff. It's just always there. And then, when we drove right next to it, I looked out the window to see the wind whispering through the grass, and there was somethingthere. Something in the wind, in the grass, in the whispers.

I wish I could go walk up there and Listen. But the Head Druid apparently recently decreed that nobody can go up there anymore, just admire from a distance. If I were on my own or only with a partner in crime, I'd totally sneak up there.

And all the green growing things, the dampness in the air, the misty beauty of it all... I love it! Avebury would have been worht the trip alone (and we're only a day or two into the 6 weeks), but even just the atmosphere is amazing, seeing and realizing that North America is only part of the world, and a very small part at that. I mean, it's one thing to know, it's another thing to ecperience and discover.

Oooh, shaved trees!!

Sorry, we're driving to Bath right now, and there are oodles of bushy trees on either side of the country roads here. They've a very curious look to them, because only at the tops do they spill out over the road. Why? Because they're shaved!!

Lah.

PS. In case you haven't noticed, I'm posting my retroactive journal entries .

Rings and Roses

2008-06-26T15:59:00.003-06:00

Holy cow.

First of all, almost a year has passed since my last entry. And so many things have happened that, as usual, it's impossible to catch up.

So let's skip to tonight, at this moment.

I just came in from having a cigarette outside of a beautiful B&B in East Kennett, UK. It's just after 11 pm, and there's a soft rain falling outside, coating the entire British countryside with a layer of mist and the smell of damp night flowers blooming. Everything feels old and powerful, and gorgeous. Avebury, where I am, is the home of the largest collection of standing stones (think Stonehenge, but spread out over many fields and acres) in Europe. The stones are maybe a 20-minute walk from where we're staying, and the ancient power of the place coats the air more surely than the rain. My spirit is humming with gentle vibrations, and Marley is playing quietly in the background.

So imagine my surprise when Blair discovered that this place is equipped with wireless internet. Even though it's only our first day here, it feels like we've been here forever and Calgary is just a vague memory. I look at the clock and realize that it's only just after 4 pm back home, and the thought blows my mind.

I think I'll keep an update on my blog of this amazing journey through the UK, whenever I get the chance to get online, which I somehow don't think will be a priority for these first couple of weeks.

There are no words, no matter how carefully chosen, that can explain this place. Not just this place in Britain where I am, but the place I'm at in my heart and soul right now, the journey that I'm taking. I had about two days warning that I was coming, and to actually be lying here in this bed, looking across the narrow street at the small field that's the parking lot, or at the thatched roofs of some of the ancient homes around here, is unbelievable.

And let's not forget Avebury Henge. Whew. We've only driven around to explore, since we only got here a few hours ago, but the entire thing is amazing. Even the space it canvasses is amazing. It's not one location, seen from a distance, the way Stonehenge is (and Stonehenge is only a little ways away), it's all around us, spread out and open to anyone to walk through and experience. It permeates the air. Or maybe that's the spirits of the thousands (!!) of buried warriors under the rolling hills and lands in this area.

Well, I should probably head off to bed. I haven't really slept in the past few days, what with the hectickness of everything before stepping foot on the plane, and I have a good English breakfast waiting for me in the morning, and a day of exploring places so old and rooted in the land that I can't even really comprehend it, just feel it and soak it in. One more night here, then off to Cornwall.

Thank you Goddess, for giving me this oppurtunity and putting this journey into my life's path.

Thank you Mama and all my family and loves, for helping make it happen.

Thank you Anne and Blair, for bringing me with you.

Good night, love.

Lah.

PS. I'm posting journal entries from the trip soon, so there will be entries before and after this posted later.

Waiting...

2008-06-26T13:16:00.000-06:00

Sitting in an English garden
Waiting for the sun...
If the sun don't come
You'll get a tan from
Standing in the English rain

Well, here I am, still waiting.

She was supposed to be here 12-1 ish; it's 1 20. Much longer and I'll have to call. I'm almost 100% positive that I'm in the right spot. Of course, it's entirely possible she was delayed for one reason or another, but I'm still nervouse since I have no way of knowing anything without calling.

Kay, ten minutes more. That will have given her 2 hours to get out of the airport. At least the people here are friendly. And several people have checked me out already, although that might be my outfit...

Welcome to Gatwick!

2008-06-26T12:30:00.001-06:00

Whew. That plane ride just flew by (snicker, snicker).

And here I am, in Britain, with the sun on my back, waiting for Anne. Beautiful.
First thing I learned? Despite the periodic verbal announcements and huge red signs prohibiting smoking everywhere but the "designated areas", everyone smokes right outside the doors. Often sitting right on top of the conveniently located huge red signs, the way I'm doing.

Teehee.

Whew. This is all around funkay already. The UK, I mean, not the smoking thing.

I love my life!!

Being in the air was like being in stasis. If it got dark at any point during the flight, I didn't see it. I'm glad I slept on the plane, since despite it being 4 am back home, it was day when I left and I feel like I've been teleported here. I'm sure all the tiredness and fucked up sense of time will kick in eventually, but hey. I've been running on fumes for days now, so being tired ain't unusual, and my sense of time was never all there to begin with.

Whee!!

Lah.

Now Boarding

2008-06-25T16:45:00.001-06:00

Well, here I am, waiting to board Air Canada flight 396 to London Gatwick Airport.

-shrieks wildly-

Hard to believe, three days ago the most exciting think was Inga leaving. Now, I'm leaving too. For 6 weeks, to the UK. What an experience. And the goddess is making damned sure I'm not only here, but under her conditions for the trip I guess I'm SUPPOSED to have.

Amazing and scary. And I'm flying alone, despite tripping with Anne and Blair. Over a month until I step foot back in Canada. Not even Calgary, Canada.

Guess I'm supposed to broaden my horizons, huh?

Thank you, Deesse. I love you.

Mmm. This feels right.

London. Avebury. Stonehenge. THE GLOBE THEATRE!!

*sigh* Everything's gonna be alright. Hell, it's gonna be fantastic! Awesome & Amazing! Whee!!

-is terrified-

...

...And here I am, still waiting...

An hour later...

Whoops, here we go!!

Lah.

Kids' Games Grown Up.

2007-09-17T20:47:00.000-06:00

Here we go again. Numb and cold and completely unknowing what to do.

Let's go back over the basic reason. It all started a week ago, when I got into a fight with Mama over going driving with Brian. This was... Thursday? Friday? And then, as I'm wont to do when I'm upset... I avoided both of them all weekend. In fact, Kellin (being more confrontational than I am) was friendlier than I was, but whenever he said anything, he got dirty looks... so he stopped too.

Everything came to a head on Sunday morning, over gas money. It ended in a screaming match and fistfight between me and my Mom. It summed up to (I'm not sure which) either Kellin was completely fucking up my life, or I was fucking up my own life and his too.

When I got picked up from Driver's Ed later that day, I argued with Brian the entire way home. I thought I got through to him, too. And after listening to him go on about how I should give Mama all my savings and such, I went into my account, pulled out a hundred bucks out of my untouchable savings, and handed it to him. He refused to take it, and told me I should give it to her myself. Fair enough. He had me there. He also told me I should apologize to her when I gave her it.

I still don't know what I was supposed to be apologizing for. Not saying hi when I came in? Shit that happened months ago? I didn't start the fight. Assumptions and misunderstandings started the fight. Maybe fear of confrontation on my part made it worse, and continued to make it worse over the past week, because tonight is my first night home since that day. But in retrospect, I'd have to say that Brian didn't help (the way I originally thought). Sick of listening to him expound Mama's virtues and my faults, I said fine. I'd give her the money, and then I'd be gone for the rest of the week. I still don't know whether he passed on that part of the message. I gave her the cash in the morning right before I left for work... confused and sad and--on and off--mad, the same feelings I'd been all weekend.

Let me state right now that Kellin may be a catalyst, but he wasn't and isn't the cause of many of things that propagated the fight. Every single thing I said was a thought I'd had for a long time... some of them, years. I do know that if I hadn't been with Kellin for so long, I might never have said any of the things on my mind. But they were, and are, my thoughts, not his. The biggest difference in the fights I've had with my mom over the years, and this fight with Kellin there was that when I ended up in my room, having panic attacks and freaking out and crying... instead of burying my head in Alaska (my stuffed polar bear), I buried my head in his shoulder.

We didn't escape to my room to scream and bitch about her, or to go fuck out our sorrows, or even to smoke large quantities of pot to fry our brains. Hell, I didn't even do what I used to do, and hurt myself. I just cried.

And as promised, I didn't come home the next day, or the day after that. Not because I love Kellin's family so much better than mine... because I didn't want to be in my house. I was sick of crying. I am sick of crying. I didn't want to have to talk with Mama... I didn't want to spend the next week trapped in my house, begging for rides, hiding in my room the way I had all weekend. Kellin is the next closest person to me. I had already spent my Driver's Ed texting Blair, and if I'd had a car, I would have probably driven over to her house that night.

I wasn't actually planning on staying a whole week, after I got over my initial anger. But I still hadn't heard from Mama, and a couple of days after I left home, Kai called me from his cell phone at the park, super upset. Apparently, Mama had a hissy fit during his haircut. So... she hadn't calmed down at all, it seemed... and I knew that the fight was tied to me.

I believe my exact thought was "fuck going home".

The week was not spent partying, either. The week was spent going to bed early and waking up earlier. Anybody's illusions would be dashed by having to wake up at 4 30 am every morning.

On Thursday or Friday, I had to get my ass in gear and come to a decision: obviously, I couldn't hide at Kellin's forever. So I said Monday. I'd go home after Driver's Ed on Monday. That's what I told Kellin when he started to pester me to call my mother and settle things. That's what I told Michelle, too. And today, when I called the house from work, Brian picked up. He seemed friendly enough, so I felt a little better. He promised to pick me up at 7.

By 6 20, I was stressed. I nearly flipped at my instructor, but I stopped myself, because I won't be able to handle my test if I can't drive well under pressure. When I got out of the car (finally) and Brian was nowhere to be found, I checked my messages on my voicemail. A lovely one from my Uncle, telling me if I didn't call him back he'd come to Calgary and slap me, and that Mama had been calling him crying, and this "boy" I was dating--

-click-

I hung up on it. I knew the gist already, I couldn't call him back on my cell anyways because it was long distance, and my stress level had shot back up to verge of tears. Funny how just the prospect of going home to everything put me right back to a week ago; endless tears.

So I sat. Waited. Froze my butt off. A week obviously hadn't made a difference... none at all. After a half hour, I performed the usual rounds of calling that occur whenever my ride is way late. Found out Brian went to Chinook for whatever reason (which was nowhere near where I was or where I told him to pick me up). Mama sounded pissed when I called; Brian was obviously pissed when he finally called me and found out I wasn't at Chinook (the misunderstanding was all my fault, of course). Lovely homecoming, no?

In the car, I was informed by Brian that Mama probably wouldn't have much to say to me when I got home, but he would speak for her. The gist:

- Kellin is never allowed to set foot in the house or the car again, or Uncle Ty will come here, kick the shit out of him, and Mama and Brian will call the school board and really fuck him up. I quote on the school board part.

- I'm apparently marrying him. Because I'm pregnant. Funny, since I've told everyone (including Kellin) that I have no desire to get married at all, never mind anytime soon.

- Michelle was an alcoholic when she had Kellin, Kellin is an alcoholic and will be forever, and I'm going to be fighting an uphill battle against his alcoholism my entire life.

- They've discovered all my secrets via Facebook, including but not limited to the marriage thing, and Kellin attempting to subvert Uncle Ty (who has told him to go fuck himself, Brian added smugly).

- By not calling my mother, I completely destroyed her life and she had no way of knowing whether I was alive (funny, Kai managed to call me fine on my cell when he was upset).

- While he has every bit of confidence that I'll go to University, apparently I'm going to spend from now 'til the day I start stoned and be stupid by the time I get there. Never mind that the last bit of pot I bought, I've now had since Saturday with more than half remaining. I'm not stoned now and haven't been since I smoked a small bowl before work this morning (which has been my tradition now for at least two years, with no apparent ill effects).

- I have abandoned all my friends and refuse to speak to them or see them (obviously they didn't look too hard at my Facebook or they would have seen all the wall posts and messages where I'm catching up with the friends who've moved--which is most of them, for post-sec--and trying to make arrangements with the others). This abandonment would be to give myself mind, body and soul to Kellin, I'd assume.

But, at the same time...

- My family is ready and willing to give me anything I could possibly want, ready to allow me to do anything I want, and ready and willing to give me a ride anywhere with no problems.

And so, I'm at a loss.

I arrived home bemused, numb, and with renewed determination to avoid Mama's anger. When I first logged onto the computer, checked my email and saw that there are notes from Mama on my Facebook, I expected more screaming, more judgmental comments. A week's worth of bitching from her, my uncle, and everyone else she could convince to listen. After all, after our fight the first thing she did was call up Michelle (who didn't take a side).

I didn't expect a quiet note or two saying that Mama loved me. I didn't expect absolutely nothing from anyone else (excluding friends' replies), including nothing at all from Uncle Ty to Kellin. And now I'm more confused than ever.

Everyone seems to have given me up for a lost cause. Losing my intelligence, getting fucked up all the time, with no thought or plan for the future. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm alone in the middle of an enormous tug of war. I'm trying to fight the downward spiral of being broke and 'getting by' on one hand. I don't want to end up like Michelle and Kilo, but I don't want to end up like Mama either. I don't want to be rich... I just don't want to have to worry about money, and I want to be happy. It's easy to go to school your entire life and not think about it because it's something you have to do. That's what all my friends are doing. They can party and do whatever they want because their lives are just starting. They have the money and career issues, but they can always fall back on their parents. They don't have to really start thinking yet. I like learning and I like school and I'm trying to fight my own natural desire to not think about the future and just settle. I'm willing to help Kellin fight it too, as long as I know it's not for nothing and he doesn't intend to let his life stagnate, either.

Trying to be responsible without squeezing all the fun out of your life and alienating everyone is hard. It's even harder when the people who are supposed to be on your side are telling you that you're not doing it well enough and try to take control and do it for you. I'm trying to save money and make plans and keep believing that if I try hard enough and keep enough faith, I'll have the life I want. How the fuck do I explain that when I don't get the chance to speak? How the fuck do I make both sides understand that I'm trying, goddamnit?

More than the fact that I don't want to, I don't see why I should have to choose between Kellin and my family. I think that the problems that Mama and Brian seem to have with him are more problems with me that they're blaming on him. All the things I've been fighting about since I was 12 are now suddenly Kellin's fault. Instead of comforting me, he's subverting me. And as the animosity builds against him, his family's animosity builds towards mine because of what Kellin perceives as my family's mistreatment of me and what his family perceives as haughtiness. I feel like I'm stuck as the middleman in a giant game of telephone, purposely editing conversations both ways to try and keep the peace, always worrying about both sides being happy.

The ruiner from Nine Inch Nails' song is wandering around spreading discord. All these little things have become so big. Even though I know that part of what makes it worse and worse is the fact that nobody will talk it out and everyone hides everything until it all gets bigger and bigger and it explodes everywhere the way it's doing now. And I don't know how to fix it. I don't even want to go upstairs. I don't want to come home tomorrow. Brian seems to be a warmonger. Mama's notes make me think and wish that everything can be okay again, but Brian says the opposite and every time I speak to her about the littlest thing I can hear the condemnation in her voice.

I guess that's what it all boils down to. I can't stand to face that condemnation. It frustrates me, because I don't think I deserve it. It makes me sad, because I want Mama to believe me and believe in me. And it makes me uncontrollably mad, because while she's busy yelling and condemning, she refuses to listen to or give credence to anything I say. It's wrong before I even get it out. And then there's only tears, since she has a talent for making me cry. Like now, though we've probably said three words to each other since the fight.

And now I'm going to go to bed. I'll wake up tomorrow morning, worry about a ride, get to work one way or another... and then I don't know. I know I have to come home. But I don't want to. It doesn't feel like home when I'm always hiding.

It feels like Daddy's living in the house again, and he's not even in the country. At Kellin's house I can walk around freely and not watch every step and every word (which is why I was there a week), but I don't have my cat or my computer or my books. At home, I have the things but not the comfort. And nowhere do I have freedom, no matter what Brian and Mama scream at me. Freedom isn't being able to do anything without consequences... it's being able to use your own judgment and being allowed to deal with the repercussions on your own.

Did that make sense? The thought and feeling are there, but I can't express it properly. Story of my life, or at least my life recently.

Bedtime. I still feel lost, and still have no idea what's going to happen except probably more avoidance. But I don't know what else I can do, either. Right now, I just want to cuddle with my cat and forget the rest of the world. Tomorrow's gonna suck. Everyone's solutions might make it better for them, or make a point, but they sure as fuck make my life harder.

Lah.

A Moment for Widow.

2007-07-30T22:04:00.000-06:00

*sigh*

I'm tired.

But hey, what else is new? I've got a new, full-time job working at Woody's RV World detailing RVs (insert sneer, a la Mama, here), and I've got a full life. Kellin's in the middle of moving, and I've got his cats staying in my room for a couple of days in the meantime.

Mama is, as usual, being terrorized by Fil and has responded by going totally insane. No surprise there, either. You know, for someone with a life as crazy and weird as mine, it's sometimes scarily predictable.

And now for a random change of subject.

I've lost one of my kitties, and I'd like to just dedicate a moment to Widow, my lovely grey familiar with the golden eyes. She disappeared a couple of weeks ago when I was at Kellin's, a most unusual thing since she's not one to wander much further than the neighbour's house. Despite all our efforts and my prayers, she has disappeared off the face of the earth.

Mama says, quite seriously, that she went to commune with the Mothership or equivalent, since Widow had such power when she looked at you that none of us really thought she was truly a cat.

Kai just says we're lucky not to have found pieces of her.

As for me? Even if I never see her again, I wish that I could at least find out what really happened to my Widow, because I honestly have no idea. I miss her, though...

I still have Trace, my little black hunter. And I still have Blunt and Pinner, Kellin's two sweeties. And I love them all, and am grateful for them.

But Widow was my familiar, the one of all of them who was my cat. I picked her out, brought her home, and was her familiar as much as she's mine.

So a moment for her, and a prayer that somehow she'll come back.

Lah.

Self-Pity.

2007-05-31T21:39:00.000-06:00

I don't know what to do.

I just feel completely numbed out. I probably look shell-shocked. Eyes wide and barely focused, mouth hanging open slightly, my voice barely above a whisper, with the occasional tear still running down my cheek independant of my thoughts.

I don't give a fuck anymore.

I don't know how I'm going to get up tomorrow morning. Or the morning after that. Or how I keep getting up day after day. Work. Smoke. Work. Fuck. Work. Smoke. Sleep. Wake up. And start over.

I know that this is melodramatic. Those who agree, please read the third paragraph down from the top of this entry again.

I don't want to get stoned and make it go away. I don't care enough to want to make it go away. I just want to curl up into the fetal position and stay there.

Half an hour ago I hated Kellin. All I wanted was for him to think about something other than weed for a change. All I wanted was for him to be there when I got off work. To see a friendly face. His friendly face. But I don't want a big deal to be made over me. I want things simple. Everything has a price. Now he's saying he'll try and get out here... but at the price of Adam bitching to everybody about me. At the price of him trying to find gas money, or being resentful because I cut his evening short, or whatever.

WHATEVER.

I'm not worth it. It's not worth it. But I don't want to call back again. Why not? I don't know. So I won't be an even bigger bother. So that I don't have to face the chance of speaking to Adam again. Because I just don't care enough to.

My feet hurt. Maybe I should take off the rollerblades. I'm cold. Maybe I should put on a sweater or something. Maybe I don't care enough to. Maybe the part of my brain that's a writer just relishes the idea of him rushing to the rescue to find me in such poor condition.

There are no sharp objects nearby. Probably a good thing.

Ten oclock. Why does it feel like it's so much earlier? Maybe because I worked so long already today that it feels like it's never going to end. It's getting dark, I think. I can kinda see outside. I don't want it to get dark. I don't know why.

The moon is full tonight. Maybe that's part of why I feel so horrible.

Let me predict the present. Kellin's driving around. Laughing, smoking the 20 bag he bought with the 20 dollars he managed to get out. Out of the corner of his mind he's worried about me, but he's not sure what to do. Adam is whispering bull into his ear, until he sees that he can benefit, which is when he switches tacks and plays along to Kellin's emotions while attempting to manipulate the situation to his own benefit.

I could hate him.

But... I don't. He's a sad and pathetic little man.

Why am I wasting space talking about him?

Why am I wasting space talking?

Why am I wasting space?

And here comes the phone call... he can't find a way out here. He'll call me back after he smokes a joint. He tried to find a way out here despite his mom wanting to take him somewhere or do something (maybe take him to the doctor since he's apparently puking up blood?), because I said the time we spoke that started all of this that I wanted to kill myself. No drama there. No joking. I probably won't. But I'd like to. Not so that people will notice me or pay attention to me or feel sorry for me... just because I simply can't take it anymore. I can't do this anymore.

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'.

2007-04-29T23:29:00.000-06:00

Whew, what a weekend. I was unceremoniously ditched both Friday and Saturday night, but hey. It was an okay weekend anyways.

The yearly grad fashion show was on Friday... I didn't participate, but I still got in for free since I'm technically a grad. It was lovely, I had fun... and then there was the even-more-famous fashion show afterparty. Where I drank and drank and drank some more! And all in all, I had a pretty good time.

I talked to Mama about how what irks me about Kellin ditching me is that he tends to do it on the weekend (sometimes both nights, like this weekend) and whenever he decides to have a 'boys night' he ends up going to parties where not only are there chicks but they're the kind of parties I like and he ends up doing the drugs I like. In fact, he ends up doing them more on the 'boys nights' than he does with me.

Her response was a funny look. "You're gorgeous, smart, and capable of handling yourself," she said. "First of all, what kind of idiot leaves a gorgeous girl at home when he goes out to a party. And second of all, why the hell should a girl as gorgeous as you need him to party?"

Apart from having just been called gorgeous three times in the space of thirty seconds, my mind spun with the implications of that. Yes, I'd already decided that I wanted a party life in which I didn't necessarily need him to have fun, but to have her say it so plainly to me made me realize that she was right. All of this has given me niggling feelings that there's something wrong with me that he doesn't want to take me with him. Or even (since he used to all the time) that now that we're more serious he doesn't see me as being in that darker part of his life. Maybe the latter is still a possibility, but I realized that there ain't nothin' wrong with me! My life didn't begin when I started going out with him... Why the hell should it have ended?

Plus I spent five hours today raking leaves. What does that have to do with anything? I'll tell you. That's an awful long time to be raking, with only two ten-minute breaks. So of course, that's a lot of songs on my Smile! playlist. And while I was raking the leaves and listening to the songs come up one after the other, I realized that most of them were female power-up beats and lyrics. Everything from Pink's 'Respect' to Aretha's 'Respect', with some Dresden Dolls and Destiny's Child and a bunch of others thrown in. Geez, even Bob Marley's 'Get Up Stand Up', now that I think about it.

So how can I know the lyrics to all these songs by heart, and sing them in such a heartfelt way, and just realize now that I'm not always practicing what I preach.

*sigh* It'd be so much easier if this boy just smartened up. Not that I wouldn't still follow these thoughts of mine, but at least maybe I wouldn't feel so much like I'm plotting against him.

Or maybe I'm just stoned.

Well, actually I know for a fact that I'm pretty there, but that's not the point.

Moving on.

So yes. My crazy suspicions about Chris, which I guess aren't so crazy after all because when I described them to my mother she was like "DUH!". Basically lately, I've been getting the crazy impression that he's trying to put a gap between Kellin and me. Not majourly so, but doing and saying little things that could and sometimes do fuck things up. Witness the following:

Pieces of mist detach themselves from the edges of vision, thickening and coming together to form the words...

Exhibit A - "Smoke Break"

It's morning and I just got to school... I have a few minutes before work to go out for a cigarette and chill with Kellin before having to work. I meet him near the cafeteria and tell him I'm going out for a smoke. He asks if I could share it with him. I agree and we start to head outside, only for him to be pulled back into the cafeteria by my boss, Deb, to finish a task he'd forgotten on his early-morning rounds. I wait for a minute or two, then go outside to chitchat and await him. I delay lighting my smoke, afraid it will be finished by the time he joins us. When Crystal, seeing that I have not yet lit my smoke, offers me a lighter, I explain. Chris gives me a sideways look and says "You know he wouldn't do the same for you, right?" and I disagreed and everyone got into a small discussion about it. It was a little thing, but it bugged me for a while (especially since he almost always shares whatever cigarette he has with me, even if I have my own).

Exhibit B - "Time Apart"

The scene is Thursday, the day my mother got home from Jamaica. I'd been staying at Kellin's for about a week, with few problems or fights. Earlier in the day Brian had told me that he was picking Mama up from the airport and since I had no ride I'd just see her Friday. Over the course of the day, some things happened to irritate me, so Kellin and I weren't as close and cuddly as usual. When we got home for the evening, Kellin had to help his mom at the school. I had a headache, so I bowed out. A few hours passed and I was comfortable and chilling with Brandon and about to eat dinner when he got back, saying he might have to go back later. He wasn't hungry so he went downstairs to play video games. I had no desire to watch him play video games so I ate upstairs. After dinner Brandon invited me to do blades, so we started that and I expected Kellin to smell the pot and appear upstairs. But after a while and no Kellin, Brandon told me he'd gone back to help out his mom at the school. I was surprised he hadn't even said bye or anything, but figured we'd work things out when he got back.

It was just after ten, I think, when Brandon and I went to put on Fight Club and the phone rang. It was Kai, telling me that not only were he and Brian picking me up to go to the airport, but they'd be there in ten minutes. Eeeek! I scrambled together my purse and left, never to return (until the next day at least).

That was the story as I knew it until Friday night. That night Kellin confessed that Chris had called and Kellin had been irritated at me being mad at him and told him what was going on. Chris told him that we obviously needed time apart, and kindly volunteered his services for Kellin to lie to his brother and ditch out and go drive around and get weed on what should have been my last night out there. What turned out not even to be that much.

And he had the nerve to go "I got home and you weren't there..." when I saw him on Friday.

Oh yeah, and Chris sure must be a great guy to get girl advice from, considering how well he was doing with his girlfriend for the last few months.

Exhibit C - "Come on, boys only..."

Funny how every singly 'boys night', especially the ones where he goes AWOL, either start out with or include Chris in some way. Nights where he admits he wanted to do it with me to begin with but end up with me not being invited. How I used to go along everywhere, no problem, until I got back from Montreal and Chris and and Savannah started having problems. I suspect there's a little devil whispering in Kellin's ear, and his name starts with a C. Funny how all of a sudden I've been invited next weekend, when Savannah will also be going along for the first time in a while.

Oh, and I sure as hell haven't forgiven that boy for being the devil whispering in Kellin's ear about other things, either. One other thing in particular.

I have a feeling that whatever Chris is having a problem with, he wants Kellin to have a problem with, too. And a sneaking suspicion that he's jealous of my friendship with Michelle. *sigh* it's all so childish.

Anyways, I have to work tomorrow and I'm exhausted. Enough of my obsessing. It's bedtime.

Lah.

Little Note.

2007-03-26T20:11:00.000-06:00

You know, speaking of the little ways we've changed on our trip... before, I didn't like talking on the phone with Kellin. Then again, I don't like talking on the phone with many people. Even Inga, I prefer to talk to for long periods of time only when we have a lot of things to catch up on. But now, without the casual intimacy of being together, when he called today we talked for a while, only hanging up when the boys got home. I think on of the reasons we never talked much on the phone is that his phonoe was in the middle of the living room, nowhere near a chair. Tonight, Kellin was downstairs in the basement, wrapped in a blanket lying on the couch. I was downstairs in the basement, also chilled. That's why I hung up when the boys came down. And plus when I told him I was gonna go, his response was 'Aw...', and he told me he'd call me back later. His downstairs really is like an apartment. And sometime this week, whether Mama likes it or not, I'm going to stay in that apartment with my boy.

Ah, love.

Lah.

A Trip And More Changes

2007-03-26T17:58:00.000-06:00

I got back from being in Montreal for two weeks on Saturday. As usual, coming back was extremely difficult. What was different this time was that the actual leaving wasn't so hard. Usually I just don't want to leave Montreal... the culture, the place, and most of all teh life I have there. Now... that part isn't so bad. I know it's not my home. What I realized today is that what I can't stand about being home is the lack of freedom.

This time, my trip to Montreal wasn't as a drugged out kid looking to party. It was a time to see people that I know and love, and instead of participating in their life for two weeks, I brought them a piece of my life. I had to take responsibility for someone else as well as myself, and I had to organize my life: my time, my attention, my money... I was responsible for both the material things and the spiritual things. In a way, this was the first time I went to Montreal as an adult, with another adult.

But suddenly I'm back here. And I'm a kid again. Not only am I a kid, but I'm a city kid in the middle of the country. In Montreal, I had to plan out our time. Not all with fun activities; 'business' and non-leisure activities were included. Bottom line though, was that I was always doing something. At the end of the day, I looked forward to going home and just chilling with the people I love. Which included my boyfriend.

An important thing that I realized on the trip is that I truly love my boyfriend. Not just in the romantic, sappy way... but also in the everyday comforts, the little fights and discussions. Sharing a life, not just part of a life. And I spent two weeks sharing my life with Kellin. No, we weren't joined at the hip, but at the end of the day we always ended up home with each other.

I expected it to be weird when we got back and went back to separate existences. I didn't expect it to actually hurt. I found out just how much it hurts when my cynical mother told that no, I couldn't stay at his place. "No, you've been away enough already." Nice words, if my presence had actually been missed more. Let's face it, I didn't spend all that much time at home before I left, and since I got back my family hasn't exactly been jumping to spend time with me. It's actually like I never left at all. What's more, we don't do anything at my house. Yes, we smoke and talk and laugh. We watch movies and a TV series or two. But just lying around gets old fast, especially when you're used to moving around, seeing people and doing things. That's why I like taking public transportation. It's not just getting in a car and sitting around til you get somewhere, and then leaving and sitting around some more until you get somewhere else. It's dynamic. You have to pay attention and walk and change directions.

Maybe it'll be different when I'm the one driving, but until then... I just can't stand doing nothing. And especially not huge chunks of time spent going to work, and then coming home and doing nothing until I pass out early, and then going to work again the next morning, and so on and so on. Before I went to Montreal, I was tired all the time, so much so that it worried my mother. She thinks it's because of working in the cafeteria and having no mental stimulation. That's not true... I went to school for many years with very little mental stimulation, without that effect. And I also realized that when I went over to Kellin's, or stayed out late doing things, I rarely got tired. The entire time I was in Montreal, I'd go to bed at midnight, easy. Sure, I get tired during all of these things, but not the bone-deep weariness that just won't let me stay awake any longer.

After my mother delivered her demand for me to come home, I got angry. I get irritated often, but it's been a very long time since I was truly angry, the kind of angry that washes out everything else and turns the world red. A kind of impotent rage, that makes you want to strike out at everything, especially the unfairness that caused the anger. Why was I so mad? Because, for one, she had that slightly petulant tone that told me that she was saying no just for the sake of saying no. She told me that there was shit for me to do at home. Sure, fair enough. But whenever she uses that excuse, often when I ask her exactly what, she either avoids replying or tells me some variant of either pulling my weight around the house or getting my shit together. Tonight, it was getting my shit together. Again, fair enough. The only problem is, whenever I do come home, expecting to be put to work--a prospect which, incidentally, is a an absolutely marvelous motivator for going home--I end up doing... guess what? Nothing! Sitting around, reading or watching a movie/TV, and passing out around 10 or 10 30 when I can't keep my eyes open anymore.

I think that my body gets into that roundabout, bored mode, it assumes it's downtime and time to rest and tries to shut down. And of course, since it always gets into that mode when I'm home with my mother, she assumes that's how I always am. And she also seems to assume that I do absolutely nothing useful with my life.

And all of this culminated into today, where for the first time in months I had that uncontrollable desire to leave, to be on my own and responsible for myself. I don't think I've felt that feeling that strongly since my father left. I just felt like telling my mother that as long as she keeps saying no, I'm going to keep asking. And one day, I won't listen to her 'no'. And what's she going to do then? Short of threatening me and/or physically overpowering me, the only thing that allows her to make demands and orders is my respect for her, and my desire to live in a harmonious home. One that I'd like to be able to go back to, but not one that I'm chained to and required to be at all the time simply because it's my home.

It doesn't help that Mama is bitter. Not as bitter as she used to be, but bitter all the same. And just because I don't believe that a person should be a slave to love or any emotion, and just because I'm also cynical of 'crushes' and 'boyfriends' and silly girls, doesn't mean that I don't believe in love. Just because I might indulge in some gooey moments, doesn't mean that I think love is a sappy happily-ever-after path strewn with flowers. Which is why I was so surprised to find it so hard to go home alone and sleep alone, even after only two weeks living together and three days apart. Like I said, it's the little comforts. And I don't agree at all with Mama's proclamation that it's always nice to sleep alone after sharing a tiny bed with someone for two weeks. Quite the opposite. I find it horrible. I absolutely love sleeping with another person, whether it's Blair or Kellin. It's someone to be close to and share the space with... someone to wake up to in the morning.

*sigh* Now I feel even lonelier and even more sad to be here alone.

Seeing me crying tugged at Kellin's heartstrings a bit, I think. He told me not to worry, he'd come over Thursday. That soon we'd actually live together and it wouldn't matter. That he'd call me tonight. I think he understood that I wasn't only crying because I couldn't spend the night with him though, because after telling me those things he shut up and just held me, occasionally resting his head on my hair or stroking my waist.

I was crying for the loss of freedom, and the loss of responsibility. For the lack of trust and lack of understanding. For being so angry for the first time in so long, and for feeling that horrible feeling of just wanting to escape but being trapped. I was crying because I didn't want to go home. And finally I was crying just because I hurt. It's also been a long time, although not so long, that my family has truly hurt me, enough that I just wanted to curl up into a ball and bawl. I also picked that moment to remember the poetry I used to write when I hurt.

All I'll ever want in my darkest hour
Is someone to hold me as I cry
Someone to tell me, "Stop being shy".

And I realized that I had that person. Well, I have and have had a couple of people to hold me, people that I meshed with, but he was the person I had been searching for. And whenever I think that no, I'm just being silly, I'm too attached, whatever, another part of my brain says "Why can't it be real?" If the Universe can provide me anything, if only I ask for it in the right way and am grateful for it, then why not Kellin? I did ask for him. In fact, now that I look back I realize that I asked for him quite specifically. He may not be where my life is going to end, but for this time and hopefully for a while into the future, he is real and right for me and my needs. And I think that he asked for me, too. And I think that I'm what he needs, also.

Is that why it hurts so much to be separated from him uselessly? If there's a legitimate reason, it'll still bug me, but not deep down. This not only bugged me, it hurt. In fact, all I could think was this shouldn't be so hard. This shouldn't be so hard.

Ugh.

Lah.

2007-02-25T15:32:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Goddess.

For everything that's happened, and everything that's to come.

Thank you especially for Kellin and I's trip to Montreal in March. Thank you for allowing both of us to get there, and to have a blast, and to get back.

Lah.

Wishes and Wonders

2007-02-20T13:41:00.000-07:00

Just read Blairbear's blog. Catching up on months of missage.

No wonder she thought I knew.

Part of me feels like I failed her, let her down, didn't care enough to catch it. Wrapped up in my life, my boyfriend, and my own petty problems while my friend, the one that I consider as much a part of my heart as anything, was going through hell.

The other part says that it's as much her fault as mine.

And another part of me is just scared.

I don't want to be there. I don't want to have to make those hard decisions.

I know the universe doesn't listen to the 'don't's, but there it is.

Let's put it another way.

I want to be happy, healthy, and whole. Then again, those things and being pregnant aren't mutually exclusive, so how do I put my wish out to the universe in the right way?

It's a little bit different than wishing to be succesful at a show, after all.

How about this?

I want to know. I want to be aware of my body. I would like to be responsible and in control of my reproduction.

So mote it be.

And once you wish it, you can't just forget about it. You have to go out and do something about it, and trust the Universe to do the rest.

And I have. I've been careful. I don't sleep around. I've always protected myself. And I continue to be careful, because I wanted to have that modicum of certainty.

Maybe that wasn't enough.

But hey. I've done all that I can on my part for now, and the rest is up to the Universe.

Whatever will come, will come. And I'll just have to deal with it when it does.

Lah.

A New Era

2007-02-15T20:54:00.000-07:00

I just happened to read over my last post. How ironic. That was exactly one week ago... and as of tomorrow, I am officially withdrawn from Springbank Community High School.

Now how did this come to be, you ask? After worrying about taking more classes and special projects and everything else in the universe to do with school, the end came so utterly randomly.

Let's go back to earlier today.

I spent the first two periods getting everything together for my job in the cafeteria. For some reason (maybe St. Vally's Day yesterday scrambled my brains), I thought I had English all afternoon instead of in the morning, and by the time I figured it out it was kinda too late... Who knew it would end up having been my last English class? *sniffle*

So instead I used the morning to submit all my hours, verify the official (meaning paid) version of my hours with my boss, and try to get my direct deposit and health insurance stuff settled. Then I worked in there until lunch, and then I went out with Kellin and talked to Ingoutch for a bit. 'Twas lovely (though the convo lasted all of a minute), and I can't wait to go see her in March.

So yes. Came back in, realized I had no class all afternoon, and failed to get in touch with Mama to go home. So I went back into the caf to help Kellin's dear Mama get out early, and in return (or... you know... just because she's Michelle...) she told me to come home with her and Kellin and call Mama from there. We were just out the door when I realized I'd forgotten to give Christian something to give to Kai. Michelle told me to run like the wind, but I couldn't find Christian anywhere. I did, however, see Keebee and Blair and thrust it into their hands, already worried I was taking too long. I was going out the door once again when el principal cornered me and insisted I go talk to him.

Yes, I told him Michelle was waiting with the car already running.

No, he didn't care.

Given the circumstances (and my naturally paranoid nature), I thought I was in deep shit. So imagine my surprise when he leads me to his office, sits down at his desk, and starts fiddling with some papers. Then he told me that I was ready for my diploma. I wasn't sure what exactly he meant at first, but it soon became clear what his goal was.

Then again, "I think it would be better for everyone if you were to withdraw from the school" doesn't leave much room for interpretation.

He talked at me for a while, outlining all the reasons why I should get the fuck out of his school, and I was surprised to learn that underneath all the bull, the proposition actually made sense. I told him that I couldn't make a decision without talking to my dear Mama and pointed out one last time that I was pressed for time. Then I booked it out to Michelle's car. Neither she nor Kellin was mad once I told them what happened. And both thought about it and agreed it was a definite option. When I talked to Mum a little later, she also agreed. She also informed me that we were going to Edmonton early Saturday morning, until Wednesday.

It was Thursday afternoon.

Way to give warning.

Although it's not like she kept it a secret... I just thought it was sometime during next week. I had plans for the weekend... And I hate trade shows, especially when I'm broke... I'm not too fond of Edmonton, either....

*sigh* But that's off-topic.

Since Mama refused to pick me up, I got a ride back to the school to take the bus. First, I got my final exam mark back (after wandering aimlessly awhile, thinking about my decision to 'withdraw'). Eighty-two, whee. Same as my class mark, I think. Told a few people about 'my decision'. Then, I went back to Mr. Davidson. When I told him 'my decision', he started smiling. He didn't hesitate to assure me that I was welcome to visit the school, welcome to continue working in the caf, and welcome to go to grad in May, of course. He handed me the (surprisingly simple) withdrawal form and told me to get my teachers to fill out the bottom part so Mama could get a refund on my school fees. Then he hustled me out of his office by the main office doors, and headed back into his office.

Or so I thought. When I turned to go down the hall I saw him leaving his office by its own separate door, grinning widely and whistling.

I kid you not.

And I will bet you every book that I own and all my money that some form of "One down!" crossed his mind as he handed me that form and led me out of that office.

The whole thing was so weird. He interspersed compliments with negative implications about my moral character (yeah, I'm proud of that wording). And although he was sickly sweet about the entire thing (even while insultiong me), I still find him astonishingly transparent. Still, the whole thing (and such a sudden thing) left me feeling kinda lost, so I wandered a bit more before going to see Mr. Dearden.

Luckily, his class was working on their own, so I was free to speak to him in peace. He didn't hear me knock or come in, and when he looked up and saw me, he gave me an altogether different smile from Davidson's. When he asked where I'd been, I just handed him the withdrawal form. He couldn't believe it, especially when I told him about Davidson's role in my decision to withdraw. He was a lot madder than I'd been. I'd just been kinda bemused until then. But seeing him get mad for my sake just made me sad. Not about my decision to withdraw, but just about the admin's general attitude. Mr. Dearden and I had a hug and a moment, and I asked and was told that I could come sit in on classes whenever I want.

Dearden wasn't the only one pissed off. Blair was ready to gun down Mr. Davidson. Kai's first response was "what an asshole", as was Brandon's. But hey. Not only was it my final decision, but I don't really care about Davidson. Guess what? I don't have to deal with him anymore. Plus they can't suspend me or cuss me out for smoking. At least not off of school property.

It's just so insane, though. One moment I was looking at five more months of school at least, and the next I was as close to done as I'll be until tomorrow when the final signature goes on that piece of paper. Tomorrow. And tomorrow is also the last day before school goes underground for Suicide Week, so it's gonna be even more unreal when the vacation week finishes.

Eeek.

And when I talked to Kellin a few hours ago, he mentioned something that had also crossed my mind at some point today. He told me that since I decided to drop out (so much more... base... than 'withdraw', no?), he really wants to do the same. Not for some stupid love thing, of course. But I know for a fact that before we started talking and eventually dating, he was barely going to class. But after we started dating, there was more of a reason to go to school. I know what he means. after we got serious, I rarely missed school. Actually going to class was a different story, of course, but between seeing Kellin and working in the caf, I was usually somewhere in the building.

But even with that small motivation, since the semester's started Kellin's been getting a majour case of the same itch I've had since the beginning of last year. I can count on one hand the number of times he's gone to a full day of classes. I think I can count it on one or two fingers, actually. And I'm sure the fact that he won't be able to graduate this year has something to do with it. I mean, what's the point of going to class when you know that the credits won't be doing you any good? Especially classes that were randomly assigned to you.

He told me he'd really miss seeing me at school.

Although I will be there at least sometime each day to work in the caf.

But now, back to (non-school related) work.

Lah.

Thursday's Child Has Far To Go

2007-02-08T10:10:00.001-07:00

As the familiar setting of the misty place coalesces around the Weaver, a fairy tale voice can be heard singing.

Monday's child is fair of face
Tuesday's child is full of grace
Wednesday's child is one of woe
Thursday's child has far to go
Friday's child is honest and giving
Saturday's child works hard for his living
And the child that is born on Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

As the last of the nursery rhyme fades, a scene appears in the mist. At first, it's hard to distinguish anything but vague images. Then it becomes apparent that the image of a field is hard to distinguish because there's an icy fog the same colour as the mist blanketing everything. A light, drifting snowfall further obscures things, so that the final image depicts a hazy outdoor scene of a field, fenced in some area by a simple low wooden rail. The occasional run down shack or tree appears from out of the mist, but any further than ten feet in the distance before everything is swallowed by the swirling grey-white.

Weaver: This is my world right now.

Voice: Your own personal world, or Calgary?

Weaver: Well, no Calgary, really. It's more in the country where I live. Isn't it gorgeous?

Voice: Gorgeous to look at, maybe. It doesn't look like it would be fun to drive in.

Weaver: I never said it was. And it's horribly cold, terribly unpleasant, unbelievably slippery, and absolutely gorgeous. I can slide on cement with my combat boots on. Better than on the ice, actually. And the school keeps refusing to close for a snow day, so I've been out and about in it for a while.

Voice: So you're still in school, eh?

Weaver: Yeah... Mostly for English class, which is what I'm in right now. Although I'm lost in the project we're doing, so I will devote my weekend to doing that and instead took this moment to describe the way the weather is now, before I forget it. Unfortunately, I can't properly enjoy the beauty because my uterus feels like it's about to explode. Also, I'm hungry.

Voice: Bitchy, bitchy...

Weaver: Hey. You've never had PMS so don't get on my case about it. At least I'm not teary-eyed anymore. And with my period set to drop any second like some kind of suspected terrorist attack, at least I got to spend some time with Kellin last night before the big sploosh. Ugh... I hate this curse of womanhood sometimes.

Voice: Especially since you have no intention of getting pregnant anytime soon.

Weaver: EXACTLY! Which is why I'd like to go on the pill. Stupid condoms and stupid periods...

Bahahaha... Mr Dearden just stood on his head (I kid you not) and screamed that periods and commas go "OUTSIDE THE GODDAMNED QUOTATION MARKS!!!". Like that. He started off with "This is a very special day... this day marks the ten billionth time that I've corrected someone's paper and have them not understand that the punctuation goes outside the quotation marks. Do I have to stand on my head... *attempts several times before succeeding* and tell you guys... *Continues as mentioned above*

As we just kill ourselves laughing.

Especially when he came down and his head was redder than a tomato for his efforts.

Whee...

Lah.

Blessed.

2007-01-19T15:55:00.000-07:00

Well, I just got home from going out to the city with my mother. Now, she's driving Kai to work.

And I thought I'd just take this time, before she gets back and I wander upstairs to help her with her jewellery, to say...

Fuck, I'm so blessed.

Really, I have a great life. Despite living here in Joy-ville, I managed to find a boyfriend who's not only (mostly) normal, but that I love and who loves me. My family gets along great with his, and I get along great with his family.

And speaking of families... I have an amazing mother who accepts me for who I am, and whom I can talk to about just about anything and that I can share my life with... that is, she actually knows what's going on in my life and is okay with it. My brother, although he can be an enormous asshole, is also very cool, and I wouldn't trade him in for any of my friend's younger siblings.

I was blessed with both intelligence and street smarts, and I am strong enough and honest enough with myself to accept my faults, and love myself for them. What's more, I accept and love my friends for and despite all of their faults.

I now have four lovely pets. All four have funky and interesting personalities. All four are highly intelligent, and are more parts of the family than simply pets. For the past several years, I've craved and craved my own familiar, and now I have two cats that I have to care for and that share my life intimately. Whether I'm gone for a day or for an hour, I know that they won't abandon me or forget that I exist. I'm lucky enough to have the responsibility to name them, feed them, and love them.

I have my own space, that I can decorate and accessorize as I please. I have the freedom to (mostly) make my own decisions, while still retaining the security of knowing that I have a home and family to return to, whenever or wherever.

Hell, as long as we're talking about being blessed, let's look at the 'selfish' things! I'm gorgeous! I've got blood from the Carribean, I've got Native blood... hell, I've even got a bit of European blood thrown in there. On top of having natural looks, I've lost weight and my face has cleared up. How many people can say that, especially in the weeks after Christmas?

I'm even grateful for my psycho father, and for moving here.

Mama's home, so I'm going to go sit with her and watch a movie, maybe light up. Hey, this is probably one of the shortest times I've ever spent writing a full entry... but I'm glad I took the ten minutes out of my day to write this, because everyone is blessed, not just me... and more people need to sit down and just spend a few minutes thinking about their blessings. That's the road to happiness, truly.

A Day In The Life

2007-01-03T21:45:00.000-07:00

As I lay here on the couch, let's recap over the day, shall we?

We begin in the living room, lying around watching Diary of a Mad Black Woman while Mama makes chicken wings for dinner later. Brian randomly demands for Mum to drive him an hour and a bit away to High River. They leave, I finish the movie (that Brian put on). Kai wakes up, we finish the movie together, blah blah blah.

Kai's Xbox 360 broke, so he actually left the house today, and chilled with the X. Kellin was supposed to come over, but he got a call from his lawyer and they may be pressing more charges against him (three months after the fact, whee...) so he cancelled. We're drinking spiked juice and smoking the last of our smoke when I get a call from Kellin, saying that Chris, Chris' girlfriend (a lovely girl who's the only other darkish chick in the Creek), Adam (who's Egyptian and looks like he's 25) and him would be over the pick up the bong Kai made him out of a 40 of Appleton Rum in a few minutes.

I forgot to mention Christian. He and Kai drove back over here from Christian's down the street. Christian didn't want to put on a coat so he put on his bathrobe instead. And hasn't taken it off, so he's been wandering around our house like Hugh Hefner.

And this was only the early part of the evening. I haven't even mentioned when Adam died on the Waterfall. It was like in Beerfest when the guy gets totally wasted and just kinda stumbles around after the others. And don't even get me started on that Waterfall...

I love my life. Truly.

And I love my boyfriend.

Muah.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

2006-12-30T12:50:00.000-07:00

ERG!

I HATE IT WHEN MY POSTS GET DELETED AFTER AN HOUR WRITING IT!

...

Yeah. Sorry. There was a post here.

Yet Another Last-Minute NaNoWriMo Post.

2006-10-31T23:45:00.000-07:00

Teehee, there's half an hour left... or less...

Aww, X and Blair are cuddling under the blankets... Finally. Jeez.

But yes... so once again NaNoWriMo is approaching... in less than twenty minutes, in fact.

And I'm going to stretch out this time... And speaking of 'stretched out', I feel rather 'stretched out' myself...

*cough*

You know what I mean, Blair!

Yes, Blair is here. She's back and home and safe, because she's decided she doesn't want to drop out of school, after all. We're chill again... Closer than ever, I guess.

And to be fair, I didn't MEAN to neglect my blog this time... there are a number of half-finished posts (okay... one...) sitting on my server.

*sigh* My (hopefully) last Halloween in dear, old, fucking freezing, Calgary. And all in all, it was a very good one... Friends and liquor and drugs and all that juvenile delinquent stuff. Terrorizing little kids, and even the best trick-or-treating I've ever done (here).

11 minutes and counting. Do you know that this is the third anniversary of this blog?

Happy bday, blogger!

And now, with the last few minutes... I FORGOT TO DOWNLOAD ROUGHDRAFT!!

GAH!!!

Okay, see you in the New Year!

(It's Samhain as well, the Witch's New Year)

Blair.

2006-09-28T00:26:00.000-06:00

Weaver: I'm going to kill her. I'm going to fucking kill her.

Voice: Is that how you always greet someone that you've ignored for the past couple of months?

Weaver: Only when my best friend has just run away from home to live with her fucking dumbass loser boyfriend. The whole thing has just left me.... Ugh. Too disgusted for words.

Voice: That's why I'm here. To prompt you up when words fail, remember?

Weaver: I've missed you. But here, let me fill you in on the second half of my summer with Blair.

Firstly, when my fellow dish bitch finally up and quit, we needed a new person at work quick. And I nominated and subsequently convinced Blair to join up. This knitted us together like nothing else. She came over almost everyday after work, and basically formed one of those damned bonds that stick through everything... As in, "she's not my best friend... she's Blair."

Also, one of the privileges of my role in the community as advisor slash listener slash recorder for the soap opera this will someday be turned into, I get the privilege of sharing in all the drama without actually being a part of it. Case in point, the Dallis-Blair-Zach love triangle. Basically, at the beginning of the summer they finally broke up... and then Zach started regretting his decision and begging and begging for her to take him back. Which she steadfastly refused to do. Meanwhile, a whole drama is unfolding between her and Dallis. See, her relationship with Zach was a whim, and a standing joke was how they never had sex, Blair being a virgin despite Zach's proclaimed manwhore status.

Voice: Wasn't Zach the one that we supposed dresses up in Ladies' underwear?

Weaver: The very same. Anyways. Her relationship with Dallis was mostly based on sex, since he doesn't have to boast about his Manwhore status... note the capital. He's the real deal. So everything comes to a boil when Dallis and Blair do the nasty. This drives Zach (also affectionately referred to as Pisscrackers) to sic all of his so-called posse on Dallis, harassing him and such, and the Dallis of course does the same. They decide on a fight, mano a mano with no weapons.

Voice: Excuse me while I turn away and snigger.

Weaver: Long story made short, school starts again and Blair randomly gets back together with Zach, for no good reason whatsoever other than 'well I love him and he loves me'... which would have moved me a lot more if she hadn't already confessed to me that she only even vaguely liked him because she could manipulate him and he gives her attention.

So Blair talks Zach out of fighting. Unfortunately, by this time news of the fight is everywhere. Zach's friends gang up and bug him until he agrees. Blair freaks out and blames Dallis. They fight at school in a hilarious and amusing climax (which will ahve to wait until another time to be properly detailed) and after they get caught, Dallis gets suspended and Zach mouths off and gets expelled. Then declares to his angry mother that he's not going home. Stays at Blair's a while until Anne (Blair's mum) gets tired of taking care of him, and tells him to clean up his act or clear out. By now they've let him back into the school. Blair and him declare they're moving out together into the city, although Blair admitted that she didn't really believe it would work, and that it was a fantasy she was using to amuse herself. I was in Vancouver when this news became public... and then Blair got really sick and I didn't see her for a couple weeks. Since she got back on Monday, she's been... well, fucked up. Part of it I can blame on being isolated and out of the loop for a few weeks... and the even more extreme constant rubbing against Zach I can blame on their finally getting around to having sex... but she's still acting fucked up.

And then I get a call tonight from her mother not knowing where she is, and thinking she's gone off with Zach somewhere. Anybody else but Zach and I wouldn't have batted an eye... but considering he spent the last five days completely drugged out (instead of oh, say... FINDING A JOB OR A PLACE TO STAY?) and that Blair's been funny since she got better... I was not pleased, and more than a little worried.

I should probably mention that during this time, I also became pretty good friends with Blair's brother Ross, a surprising and pleasing specimen of humanity. Ross' a different story altogether of course, and could probably have a rant to himself, but that's a project for another day. Suffice to say that in the rare occasion we do discuss Blair, it's very handy to compare notes with an observant fellow such as he. He also has the benefit of living with her.

Thus, when I happened to check my computer on my way to bed, I instead ended up talking to him. Which returns me to my original thought.

I'm going to fucking kill her.

Voice: I thought you said you were never actually part of the drama.

Weaver: This time... I don't know. Usually I just watch and try to judge the sin, not the sinner. Despite Zach's utter stupidity and Dallis' poserish drama-queendom, I remain(ed) friends with both, simply because since I could see through them, I had nothing to fear from either one of them and could simply accept them as what they are.

Even Blair getting back with Zach didn't phaze me too much. I mean, my respect for went down a few notches (and I personally don't think that my respect is easy to gain or regain), but Blair was still the Blair I love.

But this? Hell, I'm not even all that mad. Just utterly disgusted. Disgusted with Zach because I'd like to drop him in the middle of Vancouver or Montreal to see what real life is like, and what really being kicked out of your home is like. He's just a stupid little spoiled boy whose mother coddled him. He has no concept of the real world. What's worse is that he was raised to be freeloader... mommy always taking care of him. Now that he's out of that home, he's still expecting to be taken care of. Anne said it best when she said that he had to go because he expected her to be his new mommy.

To completely veer off in another direction, I got a message from Craig saying that he told Blair to call her mom, and that he had something to tell me when I got back online. This happened to be two hours before I actually DID come back, so I suppose I have to drag my sick ass out of bed to go to school tomorrow and actually find out what the hell is going on. Not to mention see if Pisscrackers and Blair will be there.

And it grates even more that I know Blair is partially doing this for the attention. Nevermind that her mother's not only livid but worried out of her mind, and even her brother wants to rip Zach apart limb from limb. For which I'm all for. If more people would have beat the shit out of Zach as a child, he wouldn't be such a fucktard today.

I'm sick of this. I'm sick of it always being all about Blair. I'm not even really worried about her, because I know that she's smart enough to bail if shit gets too fucked. I'm just so utterly disgusted that she doesn't have the maturity to smarten up. To think that she'll actually be able to legally take care of herself soon... Then again, Blair doesn't usually actually do the taking care of herself... Master manipulator that she is, she's expert at getting others to take care of her in every way.

Voice: So much for one of those unbreakable links.

Weaver: Don't get me wrong. I still love Blair. I still have her back, and if she showed up at my house tomorrow needing a place to stay, I'd let her in. I wouldn't let Zach within 50 feet, and I would talk over the situation with her... but I'd let her in, no questions asked. But I know that my respect and my estimation of her have slipped quite a bit. Of course, what's my estimation worth? It certainly doesn't seem to mean much to her, lately. But I like to think that it means something to other people, and since pretty much everybody comes to me talk at some point or another.... I'm not sure where I'm going with this. Bottom line, severe irritation.

Voice: Does that fact that you're being forced to find out all of this third hand have anythign at all to do with your general bad mood?

Weaver: *sigh* Yeah, I know that's part of it. I feel out of the loop. I'm used to knowing about a situation from all sides... Hell, usually I know more about the situation than the people involved. Instead, I'm getting scraps. And it irks. Damn, more than that. It hurts. First I was non-entity with Kurt in Van (again) and then I lost Blair at work until the doctors declare she's not contagious.... and now it feels like I've lost her again.

Ugh...

Time to sleep on it.

Lah.

Still Floating

2006-08-13T22:25:00.000-06:00

I don't know if I've mentioned what summer is like for me. Summer is when I truly learn the lesson of Time. Humans created time, but what humans create isn't always the right or true thing. A minute is not always the same amount of time. The world is created by your senses, yes? Well wouldn't you say that according to your senses, time can fly, or crawl? And I mean literally do so, not just 'feel' like it. Because, of course, if you feel it in all your senses, it's essentially real for you.

Okay. Now that I've lost you completely, let's move on to how this relates to me and summer.

During the school year, I'm--we're--forced to live on the notion of time we're brought up with. Minutes, hours, days, weeks. Everything is scheduled and you're forced to at least have a minimal amount of groundedness. During the summer, though... all bets are off. I float through life during the summer, uncaring of the usual boundaries like time and distance. Even though I work regurlarly, the days and shifts blur together and cease to matter. Things float to me, and float away. Somehow, the things that are scheduled don't interfere with this.

I wish that I could float like this during the school year. It cuts down enormously on the day-to-day complications that cause us to die young of heart attacks and high blood pressure. Of course, it means that days off don't mean so much because they blur into the workdays, but it also means that even if I work everyday, it takes much more to bug me out. Being burnt out is not a cumulative thing like this, it's a random thing. And like I said, that has its ups and downs.

Since I sleep when I'm tired and wake up when I'm not (barring work, naturally), I'm not limited by normal 'business hours'. Everything can be done immediately, and everything can wait until tomorrow if it can't. I can go almost a month without updating my blog and even though mountains have changed, it's still like no time has passed.

Am I making sense? I don't know. I just feel the need to write, to express. To put down in words this floating time for later, as I used to do when I kept constant paper journals instead of the thought-jotting that suits me better now.

Let's talk about work, since I rarely do. I think that the reason that--although work has been a large part of my lfie for almost a year--I almost never talk about it is that it's such a confined thing. It's like another life that doesn't interfere with my everyday life. But now, with the golf course, the lines are blurring like the time does. I like it when Derick drives me home, and I actually talk about my life at work. I open up a little. Blair's started working at the course and will hopefully last there, so that's another line crossed. Working with a good friend is amazing. The occasional clicks that happen with me and coworkers are constant with me and Blair, so laughter fills the kitchen. It's a strange bridge though... at work even with my occasional clicks I can turn off and work like a mofo if needed... with Blair, of course, I can never 'turn off' because it's a free flow between us and not an occasional rush.

Speaking of Blair... My MSN list (for those who don't know this) is divided into many sections... and you can define my relationship with people by the section they're in. Some change often, as I float forward and backward from them. Lately Davo's been uber Meg-oriented and we've been drifting apart because there's only so much about one girl you can hear. But I still listen, as he still listens to me, and therefore he still remains one of the very very few in the Great Friends category. When Blair came over recently, she demanded she be changed to the Family category... before, the only non-relative in there was Inga. And I did, and meant it. Maybe we're not Sisters like Inga and I are Sisters, but something feels right about putting her there. Maybe one day we will be.

Back to the work topic.

One should never wish to grow up too fast, I've found. Childhood and even teenhood are often the last truly free periods in your life, and even if they aren't they're still periods in time that you will never return to. I'm trying to enjoy everything in my life as it happens, and as myself (at my age, my sex/looks/whatever)... but I feel like I'm not living to my full potential. Like, my mental/physical/whatever state is years ahead of my living situation and other material qualities. And believe me, though this may sound a tad pretentious... I'd love to be at the same mental state as my friends. When your biggest concerns are dating and school and shit like that.

A loud bell tolls somewhere in the distance.

Oh, joy. Business calls. Must run. Will finish little rant later, possibly.

Green Growing Things

2006-08-11T13:58:00.000-06:00

A soft rain
Softer green grass
Laying among the Life,
the Love, the Harmony

Walk with me here, Love
Feel the rain on our skin
See the natural wonders
Of this world we live in

Lie with me here, Love
The dirt beneath the pads
of your fingers
Feel the wind through the leaves
The scent that still lingers

Look up with me here, Love
See the clouds, the grey
of the sky
Realize this is what
We were meant for and why

Stay with me here, Love
Away from humans
and their lies
Among the Green Growing Things
We'll stay here, live
and die.

--

Still needs work, but I like it.

Little Template Changes

2006-07-22T03:43:00.000-06:00

Oh, and my blog's getting kinda big... Almost two years running! Anyways, my brain is not a numbers brain when I'm not focused on math, making the archive format a visual horror to my eyes, and since my posts tend to be long the main page has been getting uber long as well. So I made a few little changes.

The archive format is now monthly, not weekly (good luck finding the post you want within that month, but the stupid weekly format kept confusing me with the way dates were posted). And the main page has the last five posts instead of the last seven days. And I'll probably end up fiddling with it some more.

Although really this is all a moot point, since nobody reads old entries but me anyways.

But thought I'd mention it.

Lah.

A Cold and a Broken Hallelujah

2006-07-22T01:53:00.000-06:00

Yeah, a joyful title, I know... But it refers to a song you've probably heard, unless you're one of the two people on Earth you haven't seen Shrek. Yeah, I'm lookin' at you.

But yes. It's called Hallelujah, by Rufus Wainwright. And ever since I first heard it many years ago, I've been in love with the song. It's one of those songs that makes you just close your eyes and sing from your heart with tears in your eyes. Remember Sixpence's Kiss Me? Yeah, one like that. But a little sadder.

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah...

Maybe I've been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah...

There was a time
You let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you?
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah...

Maybe there's a god above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not a cry you can hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah...

--

Hallelujah, indeed. Isn't that just the perfect metaphor for Love? The colder, darker side, perhaps, but still amazing. And cold or broken, it's still a Hallelujah. A call to the highest vibration in your soul.

Do I repeat this ideal too much? I don't think so. It's still as gorgeous a thing, no matter how times you describe it.

Fine then. I'll stop expostulating the virtues of Love above all things and talk about imagery. That's another reason I love this song... I can see every word, including Rufus Wainwright's pain, his broken heart still beating. He starts off singing about a third person, then singing to himself as another... then finally bringing it home. It's him that got cut down.

And after the final chords of the song have died away, and you're lying there with almost nonexistant tears in your eyes... you can remember how it felt to Love, the reason why you loved, with Norah Jones' Come Away With Me. Come away with me where they can't taint us with their lies... Back to the place where only each other existed. Or back even further, to the wish and the hope that lay before, with Kiss Me. Or if you're not wanting to come back from that sad trip yet, maybe Lacuna Coil's Falling Again. And while that isn't a love song, it does a pretty good job of summing up my mood after that cold and broken Hallelujah. Just wanting to feel good? Bob Marley's I Can See Clearly Now, or maybe Shaggy's Keeping It Real. Or just anything by India.Arie.

Back to the real world? My life. If you're wondering what happened to the Frenchified Lost Entry, I chickened out a few days and hid it too, although it's much less further back than the original. Maybe I'll post it back eventually. Maybe not. So if you want to know about my own cold and broken Hallelujah, you'll have to work for it. And if you don't want to do that then I guess you don't really deserve to know, now do you?

Sound logic.

Mm. Talking to Davo, as usual. Was a tad irritated him at him for a few days after the Stampede, but it faded. What happened at the Stampede, you ask? Well, we went down a few days ago (wow, was it last Friday already?) and chilled, before going to see Our Lady Peace. Did I already talk about this? I'll check.

No, I didn't. Wait, I talked about it in the Lost Entry, I think. Not everything in that entry was a touchy subject.

So yes. The show was quite good, although we lost the people we were supposed to be meeting. One song in particular (not that I know what it was) was amazing... the lead dude climbed all the rigging and was at the top top of the stage. "I don't know how I'm going to get down," he stated. "But I have faith. My bandmembers'll help me. I'll get down somehow." And then, perched up there far above our heads, he started to sing. The sun's coming back up, or something similar. And after talking a little, and singing a little, he moved back towards the rigging, still singing. And as his voice and the crowd rose in energy (even the mosh paused a few moments), he climbed down. And that chorus came up again just as he was reaching the bottom.

Simple moments of beauty.

But yes. After that, there was le encore, since I think that was close to the last song. And for the encore, I manoeuvered forward with Becca and Davo holding on close behind. By the end, we were dead center and front. And when the final end came, and I turned to smile at Becs and Davo... Davo wasn't there. Becca had lost him, she explained. Since he was the main OLP fan, I was kinda disappointed he'd been lost.

Twenty minutes later, after Becs and I searched high and low and couldn't find him anywhere, both of us were a little more than disappointed. We were worried. The lead dude was out talking to people at the place where we assumed Dave'd been telling us about, but he wasn't there. An hour later, after many frantic cell phone calls and a shitload of worrying, Becca had no choice but to leave with her family. And I was left with no ride home, and no friends, period. And to make things worse, I was starting to get sick from being hungry (long story made short, if I don't eat often I get nauseous and headaches and other unpleasant stuff) but hadn't gotten a chance to eat. So I finally was giving up and heading towards the concessions when who do I see trailing behind the crowd of people we'd lost before the show, walking in the opposite direction?

And supremely unconcerned about the whole situation, he was. Hadn't checked his cell or even bothered to leave a message on Becs'. His 'group'? Just eaten. Didn't want to go on rides, so our horrendously overpriced rides-bracelets were wasted. And he claimed that we were leaving too soon for me to run and grab food for myself.

To be fair, I don't think he realized exactly how shitty a time Becs and I had looking for him. And I'm pretty sure he was buzzed over the show and the... er... 'smoky' air. But hey, whatever his reasons, he had a great day. He deserves it. Me? Well, call me a dweller, but personally my night was kinda ruined after that. Especially after my mother scummed me out on the ride home from his house.

So yes. Long story. The gist? I was irritated for a while. Why am I talking about it if I'm not bothered by it anymore? Doth the lady protest too much? Well, the whole thing still needed to be exorcised, lest the vague resentment resurface later. I'm not trying to overly protest; I'm just trying to make the point that it happened and it's done and whatever.

Random topic change.

I burned two arrows into my arm with arrow-shaped ice and salt. The original iceburn, back for more. The first one, on the upper arm facing down into me elbow, didn't come out much. It's just the three points and a bit of the stem that show. But I like it because it's abstract. The one facing up? I not only held it until my skin was frozen solid, I rubbed salt into it afterwards.

Why do I do these things? Why did I scratch myself until I bled over and over a few months back? Not just because of the Beauty in the Madness. That excuse can only be used once or twice, not over and over again.

Partly because I love scars, I know. And I love sores and cuts and burns and such while they're healing. But why? I'm not sure. Just like I'm not sure why I love piercings and pain so much. My mother asks me sarcastically if I really think it looks attractive, with the obvious answer being a dubious 'no'. But truly? Yes, I do. To me, at least. Will I regret it? Probably, although it's been four years or more since I started, and I don't regret it yet.

No regrets, my New Year's Resolution a year or two ago, remember?

Still.

And is it wrong to want a tattoo partly for the unique sensation of a needle flashing in and out of your body over and over?

But only partly for that reason.

Okay, this entry has obviously taken a turn for the darker.

So I shall end this entry, with India.Arie's "Strength, Courage and Wisdom" playing. Kind of a counterpoint, I suppose.

I was gonna only post a couple of lines from the song, but it's so great I'm forced to post the whole thing.

Inside my head there lives a dream
That I want to see in the sun
Behind my eyes there lives a me
That I've been hiding for much too long
'Cause I've been, too afraid to let it show
'Cause I'm scared of the judgment that may follow
Always putting off my living for tomorrow
It's time to step out on faith
I've gotta show my faith
It's been elusive for so long
But freedom is mine today
I've gotta step out on faith
It's time to show my faith
Procrastination had me down
But look what I have found, I found

Strength, courage, and wisdom
And it's been inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me

Behind my pride there lives a me,
That knows humility
Inside my voice there is a soul
And in my soul there is a voice
But I've been, too afraid to make a choice
'Cause I'm scared of the things that I might be missing
Running too fast to stop and listen

It's time to step out on faith
I've gotta show my faith
It's been elusive for so long
But freedom is mine today
I've gotta step out on faith it's time to show my faith
Procrastination had me down
But look what I have found, I found

Strength, courage, and wisdom
And it's been inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me

I close my eyes and I think of all the things
That I want to see
'Cause I know
Now that I've opened up my heart I know that
Anything I want can be
So let it be, so let it be:.

Strength, courage, and wisdom
It's been inside of me all along,
Strength, courage, wisdom
It's been inside of me all along,
Everyday I'm praying for:

Strength, courage, and wisdom
To find me, yeah,
Strength, courage, and wisdom
Inside of me

Vamp
I found it in me, I found it finally
I'm sure to keep it' cause I like it,
I say thank you.

Lah.

A Note on the Lost Entry

2006-07-17T16:06:00.000-06:00

Voice: What lost entry?

Weaver: If it were here, then it wouldn't be lost, now would it?

Voice: That's beside the point. Explain fully.

Weaver: Well, last night I was having a small upset, and felt the need to post. However, I didn't want anyone to READ said post, so I kinda misplaced it in the archives so that only those who want to read through every single old entry can find it.

Voice: And yet... you're telling us about it. Thus encouraging people to do so.

Weaver: You know how I am... I write to be heard. And I wasn't even talking to you on that one, so I feel like it'll never be heard.

Voice: So basically you're defeating yourself by being yourself.

Weaver: Something like that. But you see, I have a plan.

Voice: Uh oh.

Weaver: Hey! I have good plans sometimes!

Voice: *cough* Sometimes.

Weaver: Fine then, I won't tell you my plan.

Voice: Oh, please. Of course you will.

Weaver: Yeah... you're right... So... the plan. I shall post it, but I shall post it in FRENCH! Hence, only those who can read french will be able to understand it.

Voice: Need I point out the obvious holes in this plan? Such as online translators?

Weaver: Shush. I don't want to hear it. At the very least, this will keep me occupied for a little while, not to mention force me to brush up on my French skills. Oh, and Will? Shut up. I can hear your thoughts from all the way over here, before you even think them. Especially after you read this.

Lah.

Grrrr.

2006-07-10T16:37:00.000-06:00

Ach.

I can't even articulate words.

I am so fucking pissed off right now.

I-- It's just--

Fuck it.

Words of a Prophet.

2006-07-08T16:35:00.000-06:00

I grew up listening to these songs of freedom.

Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: don't give up the fight!

Preacherman, don't tell me,
Heaven is under the earth.
I know you don't know
What life is really worth.
It's not all that glitters is gold;
'Alf the story has never been told:
So now you see the light, eh!
Stand up for your rights. Come on!

Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: don't give up the fight!

Most people think,
Great God will come from the skies,
Take away everything
And make everybody feel high.
But if you know what life is worth,
You will look for yours on earth:
And now you see the light,
You stand up for your rights. Jah!

Get up, stand up! (Jah, Jah!)
Stand up for your rights! (Oh-hoo!)
Get up, stand up! (Get up, stand up!)
Don't give up the fight! (Life is your right!)
Get up, stand up! (So we can't give up the fight!)
Stand up for your rights! (Lord, Lord!)
Get up, stand up! (Keep on struggling on!)
Don't give up the fight! (Yeah!)

We sick an' tired of-a your ism-skism game -
Dyin' 'n' goin' to heaven in-a Jesus' name, Lord.
We know when we understand:
Almighty God is a living man.
You can fool some people sometimes,
But you can't fool all the people all the time.
So now we see the light (What you gonna do?),
We gonna stand up for our rights! (Yeah, yeah, yeah!)

So you better:
Get up, stand up! (In the morning! Git it up!)
Stand up for your rights! (Stand up for our rights!)
Get up, stand up...

Hear the children cryin',
but I know they cry not in vain.
Now the times are changin';
love has come to bloom again.

Smelling the air when spring comes by raindrops
reminds us of youthful days.
But now it's not rain that water the cane crops,
but the sweat from man's brow;
the substance from our spine.
We gotta keep on living, living on borrowed time:
Hallelujah time!

Yes, you can hear the children singing: Hallelujah time!
As they go singing by and by: Hallelujah time!
Oh, "hallelujah" singing in the morning.
Hallelujah time! Let them sing; don't let them cry.

Over rocks and mountains
the sheep are scattered all around.
Over hills and valleys,
they are everywhere to be found.
But though we bear our burdens now,
All afflictions got to end somehow:
From swinging the hammer, pulling the plough.

Why won't you let us be, to live in harmony?
We like to be free like birds in a tree.

Hallelujah time! Yes, you can hear the children singing.
Hallelujah time! Yes, as they go singing by and by.
Hallelujah time! Oh "hallelujah" singing in the morning.
Let them sing; never let them cry.
Hallelujah time! "Hallelujah" singin' in the morning.

This last one is my favourite. The album it was on came out after they killed him; a final irony.

Old pirates, yes, they rob I;
Sold I to the merchant ships,
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the 'and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look? Ooh!
Some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfil de book.

Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our mind.

Wo! Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time.

How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?

Yes, some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfil de book.

Won't you help to sing
Dese songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever had:
Redemption songs -
All I ever had:
Redemption songs:
These songs of freedom,
Songs of freedom.

The more Man smoke Herb, the more Babylon fall.

Lah.

"Let's Play Penis Hole-Digging!"

2006-07-08T01:53:00.000-06:00

(12:39 AM) Sayata - Who's c:	Have you ever had a penis fight?
(12:40 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	wahts that
(12:40 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	like a sword fight, but with penises?
(12:40 AM)	Sayata - Who's comin' to see Pirates II with me? has changed his/her name to "Sayata - PENIS FIGHT TIME!!!"
(12:41 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Yuppers
(12:43 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Man if I had a penis I'd have penis fights with everyone
(12:45 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	thats stupid
(12:45 AM)	Sayata - PENIS FIGHT TIME!!! has changed his/her name to "Sayata - PENIS FIGHT TIME!!! Just you, me, and a strap on."
(12:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	you'd need a boner, and you'd couldn't lose it
(12:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	fighting with a naked guy doesnt turn a guy on
(12:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	or at least half naked, fuck...thats gross
(12:46 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Yeah well that's what strap-ons are for.
(12:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	peh
(12:47 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	you think its all great and fun but whne you're a guy, the thought of a penis fight souds utterly retarded
(12:47 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Have a penis fight with a girl then
(12:47 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	maybe
(12:47 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	id rather play penis hole-digging though. if that were the case
(12:48 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Penis hole-digging?
(12:48 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Is that some kind of strange euphemism for sex?
(12:50 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Dig that hoeee!!
(12:50 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Errrr
(12:50 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Hole
(12:50 AM) Sayata - PENIS F:	Haha
(12:52 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	you have to see how quickly you can bob it in and out of the hole, and how deep you can go
(12:53 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	10 points for hitting the g spot, 5 points for bobbing faster than the hole possessor can count aloud
(12:53 AM)	Sayata - PENIS FIGHT TIME!!! Just you, me, and a strap on. has changed his/her personal message to "PENIS FIGHT TIME!!! Just you, me, and a strap on."
(12:53 AM)	Sayata - PENIS FIGHT TIME!!! Just you, me, and a strap on. has changed his/her name to "Sayata - Let's play Penis Hole-Digging."
(12:53 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Make that 25 points for hitting the g spot.
(12:54 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Haha 5 points for quick insertion (it's harder than it looks, getting in the hole)
(12:54 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	k fine
(12:54 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	25
(12:54 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahaha
(12:54 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"slam dunk"
(12:54 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	or as i say, slam dunk your junk
(12:54 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Haha
(12:55 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	20 points for keeping the hole dry for at least 2 minutes?
(12:55 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	50.
(12:55 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahaha
(12:55 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	okay.
(12:55 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Heh.
(12:56 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	heh heh
(12:56 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	And 100 points for... hm searches for euphemism
(12:56 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	thatd be my new fave sport by far.
(12:56 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hmmmm
(12:58 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	bobbing multiple holes and hitting at least 2 g spots within a minute?
(12:58 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	along with clean, quick insertions. that would take skill.
(12:59 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Multiple holes
(12:59 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	indeed.
(12:59 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Wait that's not the emoticon I was looking for
(12:59 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	what was, lol
(12:59 AM) Sayata - Let's p:
(12:59 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	There
(1:00 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	yes, insert, withdraw, pivot, insert, withdraw
(1:00 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Ohhh THAT kind of multiple holes
(1:01 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hit two jackpots in under a minute and kabam, 100 points.
(1:01 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	yes.
(1:01 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Naw, that shouldn't be worth that much
(1:01 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	okay 50 again then.
(1:01 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Now making the owner of the hole enjoy it, that should be worht 100
(1:02 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	okay, so two thumbs up afterwards equals 100 pnts.
(1:03 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Yessums. That's gonna be the one that shovellers get the least I bet
(1:03 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Bitter? Me? Nooooo
(1:04 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	The trick is to prospect, then landscape... get the lay of the land.
(1:04 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Pun definitely intended
(1:04 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	wow you lost me, but okay!
(1:04 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Awww nevermind then
(1:05 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	I was getting too deep in the puns
(1:05 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Heh it could become an Olympic sport
(1:06 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	We could call it Gold-digging
(1:06 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahah
(1:06 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	i thought of that name
(1:06 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	5 minutes ago
(1:06 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	but thought you might not agree
(1:06 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	but okay!
(1:06 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Why wouldn't I agree?
(1:06 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	And haha you're way ahead of me
(1:07 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	mm i dont know.
(1:07 AM)	DaVo_.- .--->V.I. [[466-1107]] ... giving up is the easiest, yet hardest way out ... 17 in 5 days. has changed his/her name to "DaVo_.- .--->V.I. [[466-1107]] ... Okay everybody, its Gold-Diggin' time. ... 17 in 5 days."
(1:08 AM)	DaVo_.- .--->V.I. [[466-1107]] ... Okay everybody, its Gold-Diggin' time. ... 17 in 5 days. has changed his/her name to "DaVo_.- .--->V.I. [[466-1107]] ... Okay everybody, its Gold-Diggin' time. ... 17 in 4 days."
(1:08 AM)	Sayata - Let's play Penis Hole-Digging. has changed his/her name to "Sayata - Let's play Gold-digging!"
(1:09 AM) Sayata - Let's p:	Heh heh.
(1:09 AM)	Sayata - Let's play Gold-digging! has changed his/her name to "Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time!"
(1:09 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"alright people, ready your shovels!"
(1:10 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"hole-keepers, open up!"
(1:10 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"remember to take a good, running start"
(1:11 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Running start o.O
(1:11 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Oh gods
(1:11 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"grunting and yelling helps your muscles, therefore your shovel, be more effective"
(1:11 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahaha
(1:12 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"a forceful dive into your holes is recommended"
(1:12 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	I'm still dying over the running start
(1:12 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahaha
(1:13 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Woooooo caught my breath a little
(1:13 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"if at any point your shovel breaks while madly being shoved into or out of a hole, you're fucked"
(1:14 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	No pun intended
(1:14 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Oh sweet lord
(1:16 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"but if so, please line up in front of the man holding the bloody axe with the line of chained prisoners behind him, to recieve a replacement."
(1:16 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	!!!
(1:16 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"please refrain from watching the replacement process"
(1:17 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Haha you'd need a seamstress
(1:17 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	ahaha
(1:18 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Or a semenstress rather
(1:18 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Ahhhh puns BAHAHAHA
(1:18 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	heh
(1:19 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"if you wish to be upgraded to two or three shovels, an additional cost is required, and the upgrades should be delivered to you shortly"
(1:20 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"remember to clean off well, green, brown, orange, black, and blue shovels are disfunctional and will not be helpful to competitors."
(1:21 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	...
(1:21 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	...
(1:21 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	...
(1:21 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	dies
(1:22 AM)	Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time! has changed his/her personal message to "PENIS FIGHT!!! Just you, me, and a strap on."
(1:22 AM)	Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time! has changed his/her personal message to "PENIS FIGHT!!! Just you, me, and two strap-ons."
(1:23 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	I hurt from laughing too hard
(1:23 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"holes must be properly cleaned, then inspected by the big fat bulging man over there, before play is begun!"
(1:23 AM)	Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time! has changed his/her name to "Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time! "if at any point your shovel breaks while madly being shoved into or out of a hole, you're fucked""
(1:24 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"and insertion of sharp objects into holes before play is forbidden"
(1:24 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Sharp... ob...jects...?
(1:24 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	squeezes eyes shut
(1:24 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	OWWWW
(1:24 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Then again, not as bad as your shovel breaking
(1:24 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahahaha
(1:24 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahahaha
(1:25 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	yes.
(1:25 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"warming up on the holes is recommended, for maximum space and stretch during competition"
(1:26 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"or the use of large objects on the holes before play"
(1:26 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	image of small weight being attached to shovel and shovel moving up and down with it attached
(1:26 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Ohhh warming up the HOLES
(1:26 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Heh heh heh... whoops...
(1:27 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahahah
(1:27 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	oh that too
(1:27 AM)	Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time! "if at any point your shovel breaks while madly being shoved into or out of a hole, you're fucked" is now Offline
(1:28 AM)	DaVo_.- .--->V.I. [[466-1107]] ... Okay everybody, its Gold-Diggin' time. ... 17 in 4 days. has signed-in (Busy)
(1:28 AM)	Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time! "if at any point your shovel breaks while madly being shoved into or out of a hole, you're fucked" is now Online
(1:28 AM)	DaVo_.- .--->V.I. [[466-1107]] ... Okay everybody, its Gold-Diggin' time. ... 17 in 4 days. has been added to the conversation.
(1:28 AM)	DaVo_.- .--->V.I. [[466-1107]] ... Okay everybody, its Gold-Diggin' time. ... 17 in 4 days. has left the conversation.
(1:28 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Sorry net cut out
(1:28 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"maximum shovel performance requires beforehand work outs, with weights, and using shovels to suspend one in the air while in a push-up position, helps to test its strength!"
(1:29 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	...
(1:30 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	yup
(1:30 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	There's an image
(1:31 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	"Annnnnnd one more"
(1:31 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	bends
(1:31 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	straightens
(1:31 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	"YESSSS I AM KINGGG"
(1:31 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	hahaahah
(1:32 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	Kai says hi
(1:32 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	davo says eat cheese
(1:32 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	He's gone
(1:32 AM) Sayata - Gold-Di:	He came in, said to say hi, and left
(1:34 AM)	Sayata - Gold-Diggin' time! "if at any point your shovel breaks while madly being shoved into or out of a hole, you're fucked" has changed his/her name to "Sayata - I'd play Gold-Digging with you anytime!"
(1:34 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"shovels should be sharpened before play"
(1:34 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Sharpened.
(1:34 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Sharpened?
(1:35 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	SHARPENED???
(1:35 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	yupz
(1:35 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	shiiiinggg shhhiiinnngg puss puss...shiiiiinnng blows*...mmmm"
(1:36 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	0.0
(1:36 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	crosses legs the holes would rebel
(1:37 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	oh, right, forgot that it would suck for the hole-possessor too.
(1:38 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"shovels may be plunged forcefully once sharpened"
(1:38 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	You're SICK
(1:38 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	SICK SICK SICK
(1:38 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	yum yum yum
(1:38 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	jks.
(1:38 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Hahaha
(1:39 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Then again... "holes may be lined with teeth to heighten stakes"
(1:39 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	And to keep the shovels inside
(1:39 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Like venus fly traps
(1:41 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	"shovellers may use a metal saw to further expand hole"
(1:42 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	ha
(1:43 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Now it's just getting cruel
(1:43 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	you started itt
(1:43 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	jokes. i did
(1:43 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	At least you admit it!
(1:43 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	yup
(1:44 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	its been fun. till it got graphic and gruesome.
(1:44 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Yeah...
(1:44 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	We have sick sick minds. And I don't mean dirty-like.
(1:45 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	pretty much.
(1:45 AM)	Sayata - I'd play Gold-Digging with you anytime! has changed his/her name to "Sayata - I'd play Gold-Digging with you anytime!"
(1:45 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	i told you i did haha.
(1:45 AM)	Sayata - I'd play Gold-Digging with you anytime! has changed his/her name to "Sayata - I'd play Gold-Digging with you anytime!"
(1:45 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	You did? When?
(1:46 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	And haha we rock
(1:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	chillin out.
(1:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	but yeah
(1:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	ima sleep so i can get over the burn ness faster...if possible
(1:46 AM) DaVo_.- .--->V.I:	night.
(1:46 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Gnight!!
(1:46 AM) Sayata - I'd pla:	Sleep tight... and don't let the bed bugs eat your shovel.

On The Topic Of Lost Items.

2006-07-07T23:21:00.000-06:00

Oh, and on a more mundane note.

I lost my bag today. Complete with cell phone and wallet. At work, no less. I don't know who in their right mind would steal it... it's dirty and has writing all over it and looks like it would never possibly contain anything of value. And usually it doesn't, either.

But yes.

Bah.

Grrr.

Ima look for it for a million hours tomorrow!

Lah.

Love As Thou Wilt.

2006-07-07T21:40:00.000-06:00

Well, I don't know whether the book talk is this... but I certainly intend to talk about books. One in particular. And sadly, it will be without the input of the Voice.

I just finished reading a friend's blog. And ugh. I just want to hug him and beat up everyone who fucks him over, especially one specific someone. I mean, it's his birthday in a few days. And he deserves to have a great one, you know? But instead, it looks like he's gonna be swimming in shit. Upstream.

I don't know most of his friends. I only know them by reputation. But to me, it sounds like every one of them wants something from him. Except maybe his best friend. And especially that one special person he is besotted with. She likes his besottedness. She likes the attention. Does she actually give a flying fuck about him? I think not. Maybe a passing thought, but no more. I don't care what he says. I've known her a hell of a lot longer than he has.

Obsession, obsession. I could tell when she was online even before I had her on my MSN list because our conversations would suddenly go from rapid-fire responses to waiting a good 5-10 minutes for each response. Like right now, come to think of it. And I could almost smell the almost unconscious annoyance whenever I'd send a couple of messages one after the other, because he'd be having a convo with his belle and even that one little distraction (or several, depending how many other people were online) is an annoyance.

Why do twits have such power? To confuse and depress and tear apart relationships and friendships, to cause mood swings and irrational actions, all for supposed love? Not even of an amazing person, but for love of ... well... a twit.

Not that my friendships are beings destroyed by twits. The only way that the whole situation really bugs me is in how I can see it hurting my friend. And hey, I've been the one being hurt before. He really doesn't need the stress of friends' problems on top of his own.

The whole thing makes me think of the book I'm reading... Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey. I've read the entire series before, and I fell immediately in love. In fact, that's the premise of the entire world the book is built on: Love as thou wilt. The first and most important precept.

But what of this love? If indeed he truly loves her. I'm sorry... but I don't think so. It's an obsession, an infatu$ation... but love? Aside from the whole basic unlikelyhood of it all... I watch people. It's what I do, to enforce a cliche. And listening to him, talking to him... It's like a contradiction in motion. Except for his declarations (and obvious actions), it's like... I don't know how to explain. But patently obvious (to me at least) that's it not a deep emotion. An uber strong one, mayhap... but not a deep one. Even the fact that we can laugh and joke about twits and cows and such says a lot.

Love as thou wilt. But what of pain? Does it mean to love no matter what, to continue to love when there's no hope and the person hurts you as much as they bring you joy?

Of course, Phedre (the main character of Kushiel's Dart) is an anguissette... that means that she feels pleasure and pain as one. And man, does that make for a fucked up life, especially since she's a prostitute. And to make a long story short, that's not a bad thing in Terre d'Ange.

But yes. Back to the topic at hand. One thing I very much like about Phedre is that she sees herself clearly, with little dissembling. She also accepts herself, though she occasionally hates her nature. One thing that she admits and accepts, is love. Of course, her patrons hurt her. Literally, I mean. S &M cica, she is, because of the whole anguissette thing. Yet just as the pain is pleasure, she loves each of her patrons, at least a little bit.

I don't think that's just because she's an anguissette. I think that all of us love those who cause us pain, if only a little. Even if we don't admit it.

Which brings an even more disturbing question to light... mayhap part of the reason he loves her is because she hurts him? Now, before you all get on my case with the vehement objections, think about it. And I mean really thing about it, without automatically assuming the seemingly obvious response.

The opposite of Love isn't Hate. They're both such strong emotions, and they're really not all that different. They're both passion. Really, the opposite of both of them is indifference. It's easy to hurt someone who loves you, but nigh impossible to hurt someone who doesn't give a shit either way. But that's not the point I'm making here, since I already did that rant a year ago.

What I'm trying to say, in my own struggling way, is that since Love/Hate are so close, it's easy to confuse them. I hate everything about you... why do I love you? That song says it all. The heart holds no bounds. Love as thou wilt.

But then, I don't hate anyone. True, I have moments where I despise things, but I also have moments of absolute love. And the love moments outweight the hate ones.

Wandering away from the point again, sorry.

When you love someone or something, you give it power over you. Power to hurt you, power to manipulate you. You can hate it, a little, for that power. And hate? Well, to quote Angel, "hate feels good, doesn't it? Simple." Just feeling pure emotion is amazing, even if it's pure sorrow or hate. It's easy to become addicted to emotion. That's what depression is, I think. An addiction to negative emotion. Would anyone stay depressed if there wasn't some love it in? I don't think so. And yes, I've been there. I'm not crazy. I mean it.

Oh, and forget what I said before. I don't think there's going to be a Twit rant. She doesn't deserve it, really. This, and maybe a rant on what attracts guys to Twits in general, is about as close as I think it's going to come. Remember the whole opposite-of-love-is-indifference thing? It's a lot like the whole thing with my father. I don't hate him. I don't care enough about him to hate him. That's why I don't really speak of him on my blog. He's not that important. It's ditto for the twit. When I first knew her, I didn't hate her either. I didn't care enough about her to hate her. She wasn't important enough to care about. I pitied her a little for that, and for her insecurities. I think that upon reading this, Besotted Boy will too. Maybe even use it as justification for his feelings.

That reminds me of another misconception of love. People often mistake pity for love. Or they pride themselves on loving the outcast, or the underdog. I myself have been guilty of that more than once in my life. Not taking pride in it, but believing I loved someone when I actually felt sorry for them. A hint: you're not doing them a favour. Nor are you doing somebody a favour when you make excuses for their faults, whether consciously or unconsciously. Because in essence, by doing that you're vindicating their actions, like a parent rewarding a child for doing wrong. And for the love of the goddess, sometimes the outcast isn't 'misunderstood'. Sometimes nobody likes them for a good fucking reason *coughjaredcough*.

Again, off-topic.

Hm. Love as thou wilt. Okay, how's this. I still agree with this basic precept. But let's clarify things. First of all, try to know Love from infatuation, or obsession, or whatever. And don't think that you need only love one person at a time. I'm not saying that you should go and be unfaithful. But just as you can love life and love someone else, one love is not more important than another. You can love your best friend as much as your significant other. You can love more than one significant other at a time. You can love, truly love, your enemies, if only a little bit. You can love money. You can love material objects. And guess what? It's not a bad thing. Obsession is. But obsession isn't love. There can be a fine line... sometimes it's an invisible line... but there's still the line.

I wish some of my friends could see that line. Hell, I wish I could see that line, sometimes.

Love as thou wilt.

Time doesn't slow down for those who Dream...

2006-07-07T00:43:00.000-06:00

Voice: It's been a while since you called for me.

Weaver: Yeah, I just wasn't needin' ya.

Voice: Now that sure makes me feel special.

Weaver: Oh, you know what I mean...

Voice: Yes, I do. So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?

Weaver settles comfortably onto a bed of mist. She also happens to be naked. The mist cushions her and wraps tendrils around her arms and legs, with wisps settling around her face, feet and breasts. She collapses bonelessly, the mist tickling her feet. A comfortable sigh escapes her.

Weaver: Now that's better. Man, it's hot. You know, although the whole climate-changing concept is a scary one, I could definitely get used to this kind of Calgary weather.

Voice: You're not technically in Calgary anymore.

Weaver: Nope, but even while I'm in my own personal Oz mentally, my body is still bloody sweating. But yes. Anyways. I wish to talk about books.

Voice: Books, eh? More Suzanne Forster?

Weaver: Yes, books. And no. And Mama's kickin' me off her computer. So I have to go. We shall have the book-talk latah.

Voice: Okay, then. Until next time.

Lah.

Reminder, As Such.

2006-07-07T00:18:00.000-06:00

Hookay.

Finishing the last post. So yeah. Read it.

Gorgeousness!

2006-07-04T21:31:00.000-06:00

Ahhhh!

I'm feeling exceedingly happy.

Beautiful and amazing and me!

See this picture?

Ignore the 'Nexopia' tag at the bottom. I was too lazy to email it to myself, so I just pulled a copy off of the net.

Anyways. So this picture, is me. Two years ago, but still me. And it looks remarkably the way I do now... of course my hair's a little longer and my skin's a little lighter... and I probably don't glow the way I do there... but still.

This picture is the cause of a deep and abiding happiness for myself. Let me explain. Let me go back to April 2004, right after I shaved my head for cancer (and lost the hair I hadn't cut in 8(!!) years). We were there to spread my grandfather's ashes, but his death was a few months before and I'd had time to heal a little.

First thing to know: every black man within a ten-mile radius was on my ass. Or at least wanted to be. Couldn't even walk down the street, and especially not in a bathing suit.

-grins-

But see, then I'd look in a mirror. And all that good feeling that amassed from the looks and the propositions would disappear. Cuz I'd look, and I'd be like, "Wait a second. I don't look that great."

Oh whoops must run. Hopefully will finish this some other time.

LATER

Hookay.

So back to Barbados. Loss of self-confidence and all that.

So one day (and I can't remember where) I found this huge gorgeous flower. I couldn't put it in my hair proper, of course (not having any), but I loved it and Kai and I spent a whole bunch of time taking pictures.

But see... while I felt really pretty while the pictures were being taken... once I saw them (including this one) I thought "Oh... but I look fat..."

And so it was for two years.

Up until a few days (I think... no sense of time...) ago.

See, I don't remember how or when it happened, exactly... but I was talking to Mama a while back (about Becca, no less) and Mama said something that stuck in my head. She said that Becca was the perfect specimen of womanhood. Of course, by North American standards she's not, but see, that's only by North American standards. In anywhere else (like... oh, say... BARBADOS...) she's absolutely gorgeous. And while I've always felt that Becca's gorgeous (YEAH, THATS RIGHT BITCH YOURE BEAUTIFUL), I realized that the same thing applied to me. That's why everyone was gaga over me even though I looked shitty. Because see, I didn't look shitty. Only shitty for this day and age. So what if I'm not uberskinny? So what if I jiggle when I walk? I mean, it's not like I have fat just swishing everywhere. I'm just... squishy.

And so when I happened to come back across this picture a while ago, instead of depressing me, it made me happy. Because I could finally see the beauty in myself, without doubts.

And just in case I wasn't sure... yesterday or the day before, when I decided to change my pic on Nex to it, the minute I switched I started getting a million creepy messages from random people all over Canada propositioning me and saying how beautiful I was. From guys and girls alike.

Hey, it's still flattering!

But yes. And since then... well, you know how I was completely at peace with the universe a while back? Well, now I'm completely at peace with myself. Hell, not even 'at peace'. That implies neutrality. I'm just plain loving myself and the world. Accepting and loving.

So there you go. I hope you find the same beauty in yourself that I did. And, of course, in the world.

There's Beauty in the Madness!

La Vie Est Belle.

Harmony, and above all...

Love.

Broken Wingsness

2006-07-04T19:35:00.000-06:00

I've been re-reading Broken Wings, for the first time since I finished it last September.

As Lunai watched the tears wet her companion’s face, she felt the same urge; the same irresistible need to help in some way that had led her to Sarah. Suddenly the term ‘defend and protect’, the words Sentinels supposedly lived by, held an entirely new meaning. She tentatively put her arm around Darcy’s shoulders and was amazed when Darcy threw her arms around Lunai and started to cry in earnest. The feeling that she was aiding Darcy in her grief was not an altogether unpleasant one. She would not grieve for Sarah Harper, because she knew that there was nothing better that Sarah could have done. Her parents would not be changed, nor would they be swayed by reason. She was a little bewildered at why Darcy would grieve, as well: she and Sarah had not been particularly close, nor had they shared a special bond the way they seemed to now that she was dead.
But gradually, with the help of Sarah’s memories and the way she was slowly coming to comprehend human nature, she realized that it did not matter. Family was something that transcended simple relations and took a deeper meaning, one that had to do with blood. It was love, pure and simple, unconditional. That was why Darcy was crying. Because Sarah had loved her parents, regardless of how they had controlled her life, and had ultimately been the cause for its end. And because Darcy still loved her parents, and her sister. Though she knew that they would never accept her, she still loved them, and always would.

As these conclusions came into her mind, she was astonished to find that tears had come to her eyes as well. She wept into Darcy’s shoulder, and her tears were silent ones. She understood why humans continued to live on, in spite of war, disease, and the slow destruction of the Earth that was their home. Because there was that eternal love and that eternal hope that one day, things would change.

That was a quote from it. Beautiful, eh? Reading stuff like that always makes me wonder, 'who wrote that?', but yet I don't doubt tha tit was me because I remember the exact moment those words came to me, in a moment of sleep-deprivation and word lust.

Not to mention the fact that I'm always thinking about that eternal hope that keeps us going, in everything. It's why Davo's still chasing the twit. It's why everyone doesn't just commit suicide. It's why abused people don't leave their spouses.

It bloody sucks.

But it's still like the Energizer Bunny. It keeps going and going and going.

Now back to reading.

Movie Time

2006-07-02T15:11:00.000-06:00

Goddamnit, this is so uncool.

So weird shindig last night. Jolyn, Blair, and Davo all left early this morning. I, alone and bored, decided that since it was rainy outside and I was alone, I might as well watch movies. And I've been having a Star Wars craving, so I decided to watch all of the Star Wars movies in order (minus Episode II, since somebody borrowed it and I never got it back).

It's exactly the topic of borrowing that's been pissing me off. People in my household are hell on CDs. Be them DVDs or music disks, they end up scratched to hell, dirty... They're never put back in their covers, or worse yet they're put back into the wrong covers.

Out of all my pet peeves, this is the absolute most biggest one. Especially since they don't bother to take better care of it even if it doesn't belong to them. In the past few years, I've been amassing a private movie collection, separate from the family's. I try as hard as I can to keep them in my room, separate from the others and from the evil clutches of my family, but they're also very proprietary about movies... unfortunately not their own.

Example. Underworld and Underworld Evolution. Two of my favourite movies of all time. Becca go tme Underworld Evolution for my birthday, and we immediately watched it. I haven't seen it since then, because Brian loves it too. And the first thing he did was take it to watch over and over again in his pit. The original Underworld? Ha! I saw the disc for the first time in months the other day. Not that it was watchable, because of all the scratches in it.

But back to Star Wars. I was in the kitchen earlier, after searching--

Okay. The anger has randomly faded. I don't really want to dwell on this... but I dont' want to erase it because I know something'll happen again that'll set me off on this topic.

So until another time.

Floating More..

2006-07-01T02:16:00.000-06:00

Just laying here next to my bed... listening to Davo play guitar while I talk to Dallis about the meaning of life. How beautiful...

Ah, Davo really is amazing at guitar. He's playing Death Cab For Cutie Songs and he strums so... delicately I can almost see his fingers plucking at the strings. I shall make CD and fall asleep to it.

Oooh... is that Sweet Dreams (are Made Of this)?

Ahh Becca just kicked me and whimpered. She's asleep behind me.

I don't recognize this one but I like it. Hm. You can really tell he loves to play...

Man, what better way to spend a 2 AM?

It was a lovely day. We laughed and chilled and talked, us three ladies. Then I talked to Davo. Now, I am talking to him again. Or rather, listening to him. It doesn't matter if I know the song or not... It's still relaxing and funky. I'm not even falling asleep (and believe me, I've fallen asleep on the phone before).

Hm. I just realized that we've been talking for like an hour and a half. Fancy that, a male who enjoys talking on the phone.

*thinks*

Now that I mention it... I've talked to both Kurt and Will for long hours until late at night. As a matter of fact, I believe I've fallen asleep on both at one point or another. And males, both of them. Who else have I talked to until late late late? Inga, most certainly. Rebecca, at least once. Even Nick, maybe. Or no. That was just online.

Sigh... nevermind... I'm just goin to lay here and enjoy this some more...

A While Later

Sorry. My phone just ran out of battery... it gives you exactly one mili-second's warning of a beep before it turns off. And I don't want to call him back because I don't have another phone handy and besides... he shouldn't be useless tomorrow morn' either. Especially since he's going to pack quickly and clean and such and get his mother to let him sleep over.

AREN'T YOU, DAVO?

Pity, though. We'd moved back into talking.

I shoudl probably go to bed if I don't want to be useless tomorrow. Especially with Miz Early Morning sleeping for the past four hours and ready to wake up uber early this morning.

And a mosquito bit my ass. Again.

Joy.

Lah.

Floating...

2006-06-30T03:06:00.000-06:00

Summertime!!!

Ah, I love Summer.

And now, I am done exams. And after working the last three or four nights in a row (and last night was just plain brutal), I am free until Sunday.

I, for one, am thrilled. And it's 3 am... I have to wake up early (meaning before noon *grins*) tomorrow to go for breakfast, then get Becca, so I really should go to sleep soon... but I wanted to write a litle first. Mostly just random thoughts... a few updates on my recent life... stuff like that.

Firstly, I expect there will soon be a long rant on the Twit, and Twits in general. I haven't gotten around to it yet... but ugh. And luckily, since the whole thing is pretty out in the open right now... I don't have to do the whole 'anonymous friend' dealio, like on most situations that are happening to friends right now.

Lately, I've been talking online a lot. I know that I'm a net junkie, and that I've always talked a lot to friends... but lately I've actually been TALKING. Like, communicating regularly. And people have been talking to me, too. Willingly, I mean. Hm I suppose that most people who talk online may understand what I mean here... there are people who always talk to whoever's online on their MSN list. The Twit, it seems, is one of them. I finally got around to adding her, incidentally. You'd think I'd have at least added her in Grade Eight when we were semi-friends... but no. Even then I knew she was a twit. But anyways. Then there are people who have a couple of people on MSN they talk to if they see that they're online, but they don't really start convos with other people unless they have a reason. That was me. I talked to Tristan and Will and not really anyone else. But lately, I've been opening up convos with other people. Chitchatting about random things, little things. Sharing parts of your life with people, and being shared with. Maybe that's why even when I don't actually see many of my friends since school ended, I don't feel as lonely as I did a week ago. Nothing beats actual human contact of course, but hopefully I'm gonna see some friends this weekend.

I also kinda seized life a bit more... invited some people over. I realized that I don't have to wait for life to come get me... Just because it's not a special occasion, doesn't mean I can't invite people over. I also decided that it's not my job to make everyone happy. I was stressing over that earlier. Everyone has a problem with someone else, and there's no way to accomodate everyone. After worrying and getting mad and stressing, I stretched out and chilled mentally. Peace. Love. Harmony. It'll all come. I know from personal experience that it's possible to put aside differences and have a good time with people I don't like. And if people aren't willing to do that, they can sit their asses at home. Simple as that.

Although I suppose ve shall see what actually happens, hm?

Yes. But back to the topic.

Hells, I don't know what the topic even really was... So moving on... Random ramblings...

Right. I was talking about Davo.

I really like that kid. I mean, he has issues (don't all my friends?) but he's also got a big heart. Which appears to be begging to be broken. I swear, one day he's gonna meet the girl of his dreams, who will sneak up behind him when he least expects it and make him forget all about those silly twits he's usually hung up on.

And speaking of hearts... one may be wondering how I'm doing now that Tristan's gone. To be honest... sometimes I forget he was ever here. Maybe he never existed... Like, he's a ghost. Then again... sometimes I really really miss him. Since I have absolutely zero sense of time, it feels like he's been gone forever and ever and he'll never come back. And that thought scares me.

I wonder how he's doing... those last few hours we spent together were really really nice.

Hm.

I'd say I'm in a strange mood, but I'm really not in any mood at all... I feel like I'm floating in space, unattached to anything... No feelings, just floating above everything, watching it.

Perhaps that's a sign I should go to sleep. I think I will.

Good night. Peace to all.

Lah.