Yappity Yap

1) I need to start packing my room soon. Moving day is on Sunday and we're all anxious to finally get into our new place. Packing is one of those jobs that is so ominous and huge that you don't know where to start and end up putting it off until the very last minute. All are welcome to come help. Free beer! (And by "free" I mean "no.")

2) I had an interview to be a tour guide at the African Lion Safari yesterday. Don't you dare make fun of me, it's a summer job, ok? I need something for only two months because of my UK hiatus, and I'm sick of working with children. God knows I love 'em, but that's all I do. I need to meet people my own age for once, and you and I both know I'm too good for the food service industry. At the safari I get to work outside, learn to drive a boat/bus/train and watch monkeys hump each other all day.

3) I still officially have no plans for my trip. All I know is that I'm going and it's starting to freak me out. My lack of planning is starting to bother the obsessive-compulsive part of my personality. There's a little voice in my head that's saying "What the hell are you going to do when you get there?" I know it'll all work out and be an experience of some kind (positive or negative) but my anxiety is growing by the day.

4) I'm having toilet paper wars with myself because both of my roommates upstairs have moved out. Everyday I watch the roll dwindle and wonder what will happen once I'm down to the last square.

5) I'm an emotional wreck today. I drove past my high school and started to cry (note: I did not like high school, but I was overcome by the memories. Yes, I am a tool.) About a half hour later I started sobbing in my car again, this time for no apparent reason. I still don't know what set me off. Maybe I'm stressed because of my trip. I'm not good at guessing when or why I'm stressed. I usually just wait until people start telling me I'm being a bitch. When I get called a bitch, that means I'm stressed. Maybe crying all the time for no reason means I'm stressed too.

6) Some drunk girl at the bar stepped on my foot with her stiletto last night, and now I can't walk. I have a big purple welt of a heel mark on my foot. Stupid girls and their stupid shoes.

7) Speaking of shoes, I bought the cutest pair of metallic turquoise, strappy wedges a couple weeks ago by accident. They leapt into my hands and begged me to buy them.

8) Yesterday I went to see my girlfriend in London for her birthday, and never in my life have I felt so unattractive. Every girl in this place was blonde and had great legs, which made me feel like an ugly duckling surrounded by Gucci and Prada. But strangely, I was hit on more than I have ever been in my life. One guy followed me home despite me telling him right to his face I wouldn't sleep with him. Another stopped short to tell me how gorgeous I was and yet another got down on his knees in the middle of the bar to beg for my number. It was baffling! I swear everyone in that city is rich and beautiful and trendy. It's like the Los Angeles of Canada minus all the movie stars.

My World is Spinning, But I'm Standing Still

For whatever reason, human beings exist. Unless you're a philosophy major you'll probably agree. We exist, we roam around for awhile, and we die. Individual human lives are very short, and there have been so many of them come and go already in our history, it's difficult to fathom. Too many lives to count. It's almost too much to wrap your brain around, isn't it?

Regardless of the fact that life is radically short and our lives are meaningless, we still search for meaning until the day we die. Why? Because if we could comprehend the true futility and frivolousness of our existence we would choose not to go on. We would all be depressed and suicidal and nothing would be accomplished. No one would invent, create ideas, start movements. What's the point of all that if we are all going to die in the end? The knowledge of the inevitability of death would drive us all to depression. So instead we all believe we're here for a reason, and we search for that reason until the end. It is what keeps us sane.

That and the quest for happiness. Human beings can be smiley and chipper and sunny even in the most adverse of circumstances. They can be happy even when they know in the back of their minds that there's no point. True happiness doesn't really exist in the palpable sense. It's a state of mind. Happiness is an illusion that keeps us from giving up on life. The ultimate defense mechanism. It protects us from feeling small and insignificant, and when our happiness goes away we wonder what the hell all this is for. This life, constrained in the dimensions of expectation and inevitability. When we're not happy we don't want to try anymore. The fact that the entire human race is running on such a fleeting and unpredictable emotion scares me. Brain chemistry determines whether we live or die, and whether we care either way. But that's the way it's always been, and aside from moderate suicide rates and the fact that two out of five people are clinically depressed, I'd say we're doing ok. Most people never have to look death right in the face anyways, so they never have to think about it.

This life, constrained in the dimensions of expectation and inevitability.

I dreamed you last night. I saw your outline just in front of me under the covers, and I watched you lay there. Your lips smiled in that knowing way, and it was enough to make my heart flutter as I slept. I saw your hands move. Steady and purposeful; a boys hands. Those hands make me feel feminine, vulnerable, protected. In my dream your hands spoke to me. They told me all the words you were too afraid to say, and my hands talked back. Small, soft and unsure. In the dark we moved together. We stirred softly and quietly under the blankets as the outside world melted away.

Narcissism

I am still alive, in case you were wondering. And I'm oh so close to being done my third year of this ass poundage they call university. Only one more essay to go, which is why I'm writing this blog. Because I shouldn't be.

After this damn essay is done I can focus on planning my two month hiatus to the UK. May 9th is the day I have set in my head for my departure, but of course no tickets have been purchased, I have no job there and no place to live. Yet. I really don't care, though. I think just going and flailing for a bit until I find my footing will be a good thing for me. That's why I decided to leave in the first place, after all. I need to get out of my comfort zone so I can rediscover why I've chosen this life, this school, this city to live in, etc. The whole "leaving everything so I can find it again" deal. Hopefully I can find myself over there too. I've been missing for some time now, and I'd like to get myself back.

On that note, it's funny that we can think we know ourselves. I find this funny because I rediscover new things about myself everyday. Things I've learned about myself just today;

1) I like string thongs better than normal thongs.
2) Sometimes I need to keep secrets from people. Even if it's something small, it always gives me a sense of power.
3) I miss old school Fischer Price toys.
4) I can't cook with other people in the kitchen. I need my space for my food.

And that's just today! Everyday something new emerges and I have my own personal revelation of self-discovery. Maybe I'm just a complex person, but there's always something new about myself I can learn. And there are things I've forgotten about myself that can be rediscovered over and over.

God, I'm narcissistic sometimes. But it's in our nature, isn't it.

He called me on it. No one has ever understood me before I understood myself, and it caught me off-guard.

"I think you're scared."
"I am. I really am scared." I had never thought of it that way before.

There always comes a point when the ball drops, so I've learned to anticipate it. The minute I let myself go just a little, everything falls to pieces and I'm hurting again. Not letting go has become my defense, even if it makes me miserable. I tell myself I'd rather be miserable this way than at the hands of someone else.

But look at me like that with those eyes again, and I might have to change my mind.

Ode to Albert

After two years in our Albert street home, my roommates and I have decided to move. As much as this house means to us, meaning can no longer trump the fact that it is an old, ant-infested, dirty pile of sticks. This home has been standing in Waterloo since the dawn of time, or at least since before the invasion of university students. It is in desperate need of a make-over. Or a bulldozing.

Don't be fooled. It looks rather pretty from the outside. Especially in the summer when all the trees are in bloom and the flowers poke their heads through the dirt. The inside is dirty, smelly and old. It's not the kind of dirt you can clean, either. It's the kind that has built up over years of being lived in by students who are too lazy to do any serious housework. It has been temporary residence to more students than I dare to estimate, which has done a number on the sanitation factor. And the smell. Sometimes the house smells for no apparent reason, and we can only attribute it to the fact that the house takes a shit sometimes. We've learned to live with it.

My roommates and I have also done a number on the sanitation factor, I admit. Since we've decided to move, all hope has been lost. Usually we're ok for keeping it tidy, but the kitchen has become a cesspool of nasty over the past couple of months. It hasn't been updated since the 70s at least so not only is it piled high with dishes, it is horribly out of date. The countertops are a lovely faux-wood that has been been worn down in some spots from aging, and the floor has developed a natural brown-tinge that makes it look constantly unclean. In reality, the floor used to be cream-coloured but has faded brown over the years, so even if we tried to scrub it it wouldn't return to its original colour.

Even though the house is disgusting, we've loved our time here. Our place has been host to many, many parties. It is right in the middle of everything, and a short walk away from most of the bars in Waterloo so people usually congregate here before going out. Most weekends there is at least one of our friends crashing on our couch or puking in our toilet. The house is always happy to oblige. It is also so close to the school that even if I wake up ten minutes before class, I can still make it across campus without breaking a sweat. This has proven to be a very important factor in my love for this place.

And my room. Fortunately since the house is already a disaster the landlord let us paint. I indulged in a passionate, plum purple. My room was labeled the sex room because of the low lighting and the four-poster. Every good party always ended with a pole dance on my bed. This bed is also known among some as "the most comfortable bed ever." It really is, I can't explain it.

We've lost a couple roommates, gained new ones. A total of nine different people have called this place home over the past two years and four of us have stayed strong throughout. The original four plus one are moving into our new place together. A sparkling, brand-spanking new apartment just three houses down. Dishwasher included, which will hopefully get us out of the dish slump we've fallen into lately. I can't wait to move, but I know I'll miss it. There are memories attached to this house that will immortalize it for us as "that old house we used to rent together."

Toilet Paper Wars, 2006: An Update

The war is over. Finally after 13 grueling days Leanne cracked and bought a pack of quilted cottonelle. No more inconvenience, no more hoarding secret rolls, no more hearing groans from the washroom when someone forgot the war was on. It was a rough go people, but fortunately there were few casualties and we all came out learning a few things about the hard life.

Beware, Today I am a Raging Pottymouth

1) You may have noticed I've been posting a lot lately. This is because I have heaping piles of other shit I should be doing.

2) I'm trying to apply for a working visa in the U.K. and I'm on the verge of punching the shit out of my computer. Someone please tell me how the fuck the damn system works!

3) I still haven't eaten chocolate since I gave it up for lent. But now it's gotten to the point where I think about how much I want it everyday. How pathetic is that? I still refuse to eat it though. I'm holding strong. But it's sooo goood... fuck, I want chocolate!

4) I've recently discovered how much I suck in relationships. No I'm not in one, and that's because I suck. Funny how this is a new revelation, I should have known all along. The big neon sign on my forehead that says "Don't take me seriously because I'm irrational, I push people away and I'm loaded with relationship anxiety" should have given it away. That's a heavy sign to be carrying around without ever noticing.

5) I'm angrier and hornier than I've ever been in my entire life right now, and I'm sitting alone at my computer. This combination would make for some wicked angry sex, but does anyone wanna have sex with me? No. Thanks guys, all this is going to waste. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Maybe I'll watch some porn instead of studying. Fuck, that'll just make it worse.

6) I still want chocolate. It's a toss up: Chocolate or sex? I can't have either, so does it really matter?

7) I came back from the gym almost two hours ago and I still haven't showered. I am disgusting.

8) If I could bitch-slap anyone in the world, it would be Jade from America's Next Top Model. No, I don't watch that show on a regular basis, but when I do she makes me wanna punch the TV. She's the most annoying bitch I've ever seen and someone needs to slap her in the face.

9) We've been having toilet paper wars in our bathroom. There hasn't been a roll up there for about a week, and we're all seeing who will crack first and buy more. We also don't have a towel. It disappeared about two months ago and no one knows where. It's kind of like being in the wilderness, except without trees and animals. And I have a private roll of TP that no one knows about. I don't know what I'll do once that runs out...

An intimate moment in the dark, while the screen flashes unnoticed. Tangled blankets, tangled fingers, tangled thoughts. Untangle my world with your lips, turn off my mind with those eyes.

Me vs. The Committee

Yesterday was the first time in four years that I've considered leaving my job. When you love what you do, you never have to think about why you're doing it. I've been forced to reevaluate why I've stayed at this job for so long, and what I'll loose if I decide to quit.

I started teaching dance at this particular community centre when I was only 17. I had never taught dance before and didn't really know what I was getting myself into, but the money was good and I loved dancing more than anything so it seemed to be the perfect job. I've loved my time here. Teaching allows me to be creative, I get to be a role model for my students and I am able to continue being involved in dance. Seeing the changes in my students over the years and knowing I had something to do with those changes is one of the most rewarding things I've ever experienced in my life.

But then there's the other side of the coin. The dance program at the centre is controlled by a group of people called the dance committee. This group consists of 8 ladies who are parents to some of the students in the program itself. Which is the first flaw, because they are very biased in their decisions. These ladies have final say in everything, and they like to exert their power any chance they can. Especially with me. I'm just young enough and just creative enough to fall victim to their executive decisions and creativity-squashing rules. Every aspect of the dance program has a rule, and if it doesn't they'll be sure to find and create one. Everything becomes way more complicated than it needs to be when the committee uses their iron fist to make decisions.

I've also had to wake up at 8am every Saturday of the week all year for four years. No exceptions. And being a university student who values her sleep more than life itself, that is a huge sacrifice. Fridays nights are a complete write off for everything because I refuse to go into work tired or with a hang over, and my Saturdays are spent inside teaching instead of studying or sleeping in like most people. The money is good, but I'm only working one day a week so it isn't actually making a huge difference to my bank account. I don't really need the money either. I'm pretty well off just from working in the summers, and my parents pay for my education. So do I do it for the dancing? I love dance, I always will. It once was a huge part of my life, but I've come to the point where I don't need it anymore. Teaching dance is also much different than the act of dancing itself. I haven't actually danced in a long time. And as much as I love teaching, I can live without that too.

So why am I still doing this, you ask? I was forced to ask myself the same question yesterday when the committee made an executive decision about one of my classes while I was in Miami. No one told me, and I had to find out from my students who were fuming with anger. They were not happy, and I was not happy. All this drama all the time is emotionally draining. Why do I put up with all of this? What would I really be losing if I didn't return to the program next year?

I do this for my students. I love my students more than I love teaching, more than I love money and maybe even more than I love dance. These girls are why I didn't leave after my first year. Somehow all the bullshit I deal with from the dance committee is bearable because of the joy I get from watching my students grow and change and learn to love dance as much as I do. Yesterday was the first time that my love for my students wasn't enough to make me want to stay.

This program should be about the students. They come first, not making sure we follow protocol, not creating problems where there are none and not doing what is easiest for the committee. These girls make the program and if they're not happy, there is no program. I do it for them. All of this is for them.

I'm afraid that my battle with the committee will soon be done, and I'm tired.

The knot was gone. Only for half a second, but that's enough to know it wont happen again. Not with you. So leave if you want. Walk away with that guilty hunch and your hands in your pockets. You always blame yourself, and then never look back.

Welcome to Miami

I'm baaaaack!

Such a great trip, as expected. And now that I'm so greatly relaxed and tanned and de-stressed I can go back to the world of essays and assignments and class (minus that last one. I never go anyways.) I'd enlighten you to the weight of my workload if I didn't think your brain would explode from the magnitude of it all, and implode from the monotony. That's right, you would implode and explode at the same time. It's that bad.

Let's get to the point.

The trip was fantastic. Miami is one of those places you'd think was specifically created for young people because of the crazy night life, yet there are so so many elderly living there. Our condo consisted of wrinkly old people, and us. That is all. And those dumb asses from Wisconsin, but I'll explain that later.

So this is our lovely condo at 5005 Colins Ave. There was a bus station right across the street which made it so easy for Lay and I to travel around and see the sights. We took the bus every day to Lincoln Road, to Bayside or South Beach. There was so much to see, and we actually managed to fit it all in within the small time frame we had.

So we left at 4am from my house for the airport in Toronto and didn't get in to Miami until about 2pm. We were so excited the night before that Lay and I only had an hour of sleep that night. Needless to say we were exhausted. Luckily it started raining before we could consider going to the beach, so we napped. For four hours. I know.

That night Lay's parents took us out for dinner at this great place on Lincoln road. This was the only time during our trip that either of us got carded, if you can believe that. And we were with her parents.

After dinner her parents left us and Lay and I walked along Lincoln road for a bit. There are a ton of little shops and cafe's, and we stopped at one for a cocktail. It was a little cigar bar, and here we met our pharmacist friends from New Orleans who wanted to take us skinny dipping. No, we didn't. Do you know me at all? I just made them think they had a chance until I got bored with them, and we left for home.

The next day was spent on the beach, and we burnt ourselves to little crisps. We took pictures of ourselves with our lovely burns, but those will remain in my private collection (because we look like cherry tomatoes. Not sexy.)

That night we went to Bayside to Bongo's which is a classy little Salsa club, and you all know salsaing is one of my passions. There's such a large Latin American culture in Miami. We met people from all over South America at this club. This guy in my picture was from Brazil, but unfortunately he had no idea how to dance. That's me yelling steps into his ear to try to get him to lead me properly.

After the bar we made friends with some homeless people on the bus. Luckily we are super friendly and Canadian, or I believe we'd have been raped and left for death that night. There were so many freaks on the bus, so many people asking for handouts just because of the way we were dressed. They assumed we had money to give away. We made friends with one homeless guy who warned us not to give money to people because they'd use it for crack. Oh, good. Did he know this because he was a crackhead? Hopefully. That would make the story way more interesting.

Here's some lovely scenery for your viewing pleasure. This was across the street from our condo. All the rich and famous park their yachts right by the highway so all the tourists will snap pictures and awe at how fabulous the boats are. Aren't they just fabulous?

We didn't end up going to the Ultra Music Fest after all. I'm not that upset, it would have been really expensive (almost $120 American when you take the whole day into account) and we just wanted to kick back, so we spent the day in South Beach instead. It was super busy because of a music conference that was going on over the course of two weeks or so, and we were catching the tail end of it. I liked South Beach, but it was where all the "beautiful" people spent their time. Lay and I were dressed quite nicely by normal standards, but I felt out of place because I wasn't wearing 8 inch heels and a Gucci bathing suit.

This was our view down the beach as we were tanning on Sunday at Miami beach. The entire coast is lined with hotels and condos and they stretch down for miles and miles. It makes you wonder what the beach looked liked before all the industrialization. There isn't much wildlife now, obviously. And I supposed everyone likes it better that way.

It was pretty quiet on the beach where we were. I thought there would be more people walking by with their stereo's and Dior sunglasses, but I guess our stretch of beach was more for condo owners than spring breakers. I'm glad, though. Lay and I relaxed in the quiet and the sun during the day and went out at night. It was the perfect combination of partying and relaxation for our vacation.

Here you go, as promised. Me in a bikini. Enjoy.

And Lay in the bubbly hot tub. Don't ask where the bubbles came from, I don't really wanna know...















This is my fav pic of Lay. She look about 12 years old with her pigtails and her cutesy towel, I love it.

We took so many bus pictures. There's nothing else to do when you're waiting to get where you're going. This one's my favourite though. This is us on our way to Bayside for dinner on Sunday. We were on the bus for two hours because the traffic was so bad.















After dinner at Bayside on Sunday, we crept over to another salsa club for some dancing. The minute we sat down, these two 40 year old men from Honduras (Abrahim and Carlos) bought us drinks. Abrahim was in love with Lay, and Carlos was loaded. He owned some satellite company that distributes to all of North America or something. They begged us to stay with them and told us they'd buy our drinks for the rest of the night, but it was getting a bit creepy so we left.

But this was Lay's first time salsaing, woo hoo! What a good sport. This guy was from Columbia, I think. I danced with him too, he was pretty good. But he was getting sorta fresh with me towards the end so I had to ditch him.

This is me and Lay after a pitcher of sangria and all those cocktails Carlos and Abrahim bought for us. We are really happy to say the least.

Being paparazzi-ed might have been the highlight of my trip. After the bar we slipped into a private VIP party and got our pictures taken by the paparazzi. Look out for us in Star Weekly as the new party girls on the scene. We celebrated by taking raunchy pictures on the beach of each other, which will also remain in my private collection.

Afterwards we met our stupid Wisconsin friends. Five 19 year olds staying in their parent's condo, and totally dumb. We told them a bunch of silly lies that started out as jokes, but they really believed us so we played along. We live in igloos and Canada doesn't have real cars. Tractors only. And I have 3 kids. Dumb dumb dumb.

This next picture is from our trip to South Beach on Monday. Some lovely classic Hollywood architecture. Gorgeous.



On our last night we headed to Lincoln road again and found a cute little Italian coffee pub. We ordered drinks and gelato (which of course I didn't eat because of lent. I'm such a good girl.)

The next morning we headed off to the airport at 7am. Blah, the end of our trip. But I am glad to be home, traveling is exhausting with the packing and unpacking. And I hate living out of a suitcase. But this trip was exactly what I needed. Just enough booze, just enough sleep and just enough sun to make me sane again. Holla.

So Long Suckas!!

That is correct. I am going on vacation for five days in sunny Miami, Florida with my fabulous girlfriend Alayna. We'll be sunning, funning, drinking, dancing and forgetting about all the school work that awaits us when we get back. March madness hit me hard this year, and I'm still in the backlash. The minute I get back I'll be at the desk writing again, guaranteed. Bullocks. That aside, this vacation is gone kick ass. We're going to the Ultra Music Festival 8 to see Hot Hot Heat, the Killers, Prodigy and many many other fantastic artists and DJs while we're there. This is a much needed break, and long overdue.

So I shan't be seeing you for a couple days. Don't be too sad my puppies, I'll be back before you know it. And a very thorough post with many pictures of bikini clad hotties (a.k.a. me and Lay) is pending. It'll be worth the wait.

Ta.

Frustration and uncertainty in the daylight.

Then the night comes and I remember why we are. I remember why the uncertainty is tolerable. Darkness covers my heart like a warm blanket and quiet calms my tired mind. Your hand is like an anchor as the day drifts away. Stay in the night and drift away with me.

Savour each silent moment, every shift in and out of consciousness, every dream. Our bodies don't exist here, and trust becomes tangible. You trust me, and I believe you. No judgments, no expectations, no obligations.

Lets pretend the day doesn't need us, because I certainly don't need the day.

Loss

"Thanks for putting up with me everyday," you wrote, but it was you that got me through. Everyday we'd laugh, everyday we'd cheat, everyday I'd like you more. I don't even remember why we started talking. You were handsome, you played hockey and you were friends with everyone. So popular. I was awkward and shy and crushed you harder than you ever knew, but you still humoured me. Maybe you were just being nice, but that almost makes it worse.

The other two boys weren't even scratched, with no understandable explanation. No one wants their summer to end with a tragedy, no one wants to hold a vigil on the first day of school, no one wants to think about losing a model student, the most handsome and kind boy I knew.

When I think about you, and I do, I remember how nice you were to me. I was never the pretty girl, but you always made me feel that way. You made me feel like I deserved to know you.
__________

One night. One night spent on the beach just walking and talking was all it took for us to fall hard. I should have let you kiss me, you kept saying how much you wanted to. But I was a good girl then and didn't want to cheat. I wish I had known that night was the only chance I would have with you. Such chemistry in the sand, barefeet digging in and out, hands grazing, eyes catching and locking. After that it was never the same and I always had regrets about you. Then your story ended suddenly, in black and in tears. An only child, a regret, a dream.
__________

I can't remember why we connected, but everyday we spent more and more time together. Third period was devoted to you, then lunches too and after school every Friday night. Pretty soon you were my first really close boy friend. All my friends fell in love with you. You were unpredictable, sarcastic and passionate which I guess explains why you went like you did. It still perplexes me, though. People have a tendency to blame themselves in these situations, and I definitely did. If only I had called, if only I had known. I could have changed your mind. I blamed myself and I blamed you. I called you a selfish son of a bitch. "Why the fuck did you do this to me?" I'd scream at the top of my lungs, choke back my tears and let out every shred of frustration and anger that had built up over my entire life. I've never been so angry as I was with you.

Now I've accepted it as something you had to do. You chose your way, you chose your time and you let everyone know that you loved them. That's more than most get when they go. They usually fight it and we all fear it, but you hit it head on. You took control of your own fate and faced death with your favourite song playing in the background. You were always thrill seeking like that.
__________

Always thinking, never just being

I want to turn it off.

Everyday, every bit of my life goes through an analysis. Making interpretations and predictions. What could happen next? What does this mean? It seems life cannot just be lived, it needs to be understood. Why this deep need to understand every facet of every experience? There aren't answers for everything, and it is the things we don't understand that engulf us and distract us from the pleasure of just being. In this life experience is everything.

Experience only has value because we learn from it, and we only learn from it because we analyze it. So maybe once we've learned enough to get by and are reasonably wise about this life, we can turn off the analysis. Turn off the gears at will and experience life with no predictions or interpretations.

I want desperately to just be. To just live, but I don't know how.

Just when you make me think one thing...

I gave up chocolate for lent, which is funny considering I already gave it up as a new year's resolution. So yes my puppies, that resolution failed miserably. The resolution failed, but I'm on day 10 of lent and doing ok. I'm not doing great. Oh, no. I haven't had a single chip of chocolate for 10 days which is good, but I'm miserable. When I look back, I'd eat it at least once a day. I know, I'm an addict in it's true form. I crave it too, especially when I'm stressed. I hate being dependent like that, so I gave it up. We'll see how long before I crack. I'll keep you posted.
__________

10 Things I hate about whatever:
1) Commercials. Even the funny ones, I mute them all.
2) Girls that don't know how to run. It's not rocket science ladies, take some lessons before you kill yourself with those flailing arms.
3) Simple Plan. No explanation needed.
4) Fast cars. What's the point? You're driving in the city, where the limit is 50 everywhere. Are you going to speed in between all those red lights? Woo hoo! This is really fu... ok it's over.
5) High heels. We all know men invented them. On second thought, this is a love/hate relationship.
6) People. You all suck. Actually, this is a love/hate relationship too.
7) Fat sweaty people that try to hug you. Don't ask.
8) Furry boots. You aren't in the arctic ladies, what's with those baby seals on your feet?
9) Bad singers. Shut the hell up, you sound like crap.
10) I can't think of another one. You can tell me what I've missed.
__________

Just when you make me think one thing...

... you go and do something like that to throw me off.

"Come here" he said, reaching an arm in my direction. I swivel around in my chair and smile, but I hesitate. I'm always hesitating it seems. His hand waits for me to make up my mind and my mind waits for a sign. Something to ease all those second thoughts and make me feel ok about what I want. "Come here" he says again. And I get up, but stop and drop to my knees at the edge of the bed.

These are the moments that make me believe I shouldn't. You never did make up your mind about me before, so I learned not to read your signs. I'm always just waiting. Waiting for anything.

"Please tell me something! I need to know something. Anything!" It's more a plea with myself. And with such desperation in my voice, I can hardly believe these words are coming out of my mouth.
"Well, I think you're amazing." He's so calm. Maybe that's his way, maybe it's the gin and tonics.
"Anything else?"
He stands and smiles at me with those squinting eyes. How he can soften my demeanor with a look even now, I'll never know. "Well, I'm fucked up. You know I'm fucked, right?"

As if it's some excuse for everything that hasn't happened.

"I don't really know what's going to happen."
"Well what do you hope will happen?"
"Hoping and knowing are very different."

They are. I never really know, and I hold back from hoping. My hopes have gotten me hurt more than once before.

Ode to Alayna

This picture was taken on one of the best nights this past summer by far. Alayna and I got silly drunk at the bar, flirted with boys until it closed and came home hungry. We raided my fridge where we found a mountain of watermelon, and proceeded to take about 20 pictures of ourselves in the kitchen with the watermelon. Yes, there was a watermelon in every picture. You can tell how inebriated I am as I clearly can't hold the camera straight.



So I met Alayna this past summer when she hired me to work for her. That's right, I'm a year older than her and worked underneath her. I never thought of her as my boss, I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing, but she was always super fun and up for a good time. No matter what she always had a positive attitude and for May and June we pretty much spent every weekday together. And by that I mean from 8:30am to 11:00pm. Those were some long work days, but she made them fun. After the two month stint working for her, I got another job but still hung out with her all the time. She was my saviour this summer. There weren't many people I knew who stayed in the city, so anytime I was lonely I'd give her a ring and we'd go get ice cream or go to the bar for beer and wings.

She is still my saviour, now. Anytime I need to get out the house or need a break from reality she's there to rescue me. I always look forward to our dinner dates because it's a break from the monotonous. We make a point to always go somewhere different for food. We've experienced Thai, Chinese, Korean, Egyptian, Indian and Taiwanese food together to name a few. It's so refreshing to dress nice and go out just for a few hours to chat and catch up. We always have good times together. She's so down to earth which makes her easy to get along with and she's hilarious. Sometimes she'll say something so funny when you're not expecting it and leave you in stitches. I love this girl.

A couple months ago, Alayna messaged me and asked if I want to go to Miami with her. All I had to pay for was the flight, she said, because her parents have a time share in a condo right on the beach. We can spend the weekend shopping, tanning, dancing and forgetting about reality all together. I'm not usually one to spontaneously agree to something like this, but how could I say no? And now we've planned our vacation, bought our tickets and are counting down the days (only 16 to go! And a detailed post with pictures to follow.) We are going to have the best time together, because we're both such laid-back beach bums. I can't imagine someone I'd rather go away with, and I'm so thankful she invited me. Without this vacation in the back of my mind, I would surely be going insane by now. I'm beyond excited!

You deserve this ode my dear, thanks for being totally awesome.

Rant

Reading week? They should have called it "rest-before-we-try-to-rape-you-in-the-bum-and-steal-your-soul-at-the-same-time-when-you-get-back" week. I tell ya, if still had a life, I would be six feet under. I hate you, irony.

Here's a message for all of you entering your third year of psychology...

Developmental really means learning. Learning really means neuroscience. Neuroscience really means chemistry. And you're fucked if you don't know chemistry.

You're welcome to join my "Victim's of Ass Rape" support group after next year if you like.