A Good Day

Today is a Good Day. Its about time, because I had a few not so good ones recently... nothing tragic of course, but just below par. Hmmm, not that I can recall, but I spent the end of Tuesday watching Making the Cut and getting in a fight with my mother, who has officially gone off the deep end as far as I am concerned. My pain was slightly assuaged by a drunken phone call from Roomie, bless, and copious amounts of chocolate.

But today? Today I've just been generally pleased, despite having to sit through economics, which is never a Good Day inducer. Fears assuaged, tomorrow I will wander down to the Gender Empowerment office (until recently known as the Women's Union) and claim myself a Keeper... very exciting. Fears mildly assuaged, I will commence work on my monster of a group assignment which might not be as terrible as I thought. I have finally managed to talk to a girl who has been in every environment class I've taken thus far, and she is edgy and smart. Snagged a pretty decent group too, go team. If Julia forgives me for being a bad friend, I will drink cheap beer tonight and dance around. Everything's coming up Milhouse!! I mean... Care... right.

Now I have to call my mother, which could end my good day... maybe I'll dance around to Better Than Ezra for a few more minutes first!

New music and a quiet phone

I have recently downloaded a ton of new music, which is always good for my 'I just have to play solitaire' moments, and for the hours I spend cooking to avoid my books. Deciphering new lyrics has also moved me back towards writing... ahem... poetry.

This is something I used to do quite prolifically, in fact, I have scores of poems trapped somewhere in the bowels of my computer that I can pull out when I am fifty and think back on what a whiny kid I was (not to mention a terrible poet). Since they are mine and mine alone, the terrible bit doesn't matter as much as the memories do.

See I never kept a diary, in fact, this is the closest I've ever come. I just couldn't write fast enough to expel the thoughts as they flitted through my mind, and so I came to write poems, which required more reflection and fewer words. As I flip through them, I remember people and days from my past: the feelings are still as vivid as they were when I committed them to words. They are my diary, they are my life in a few hundred pages.

Looking back at the past three years of my life, without a doubt the most formative and completely full of memories, I wish I had something like those poems to keep things fresh to me. Is it true that the more we live through the less we remember? Or merely that things get pressed and become harder to recall on a whim... so we need memories, poems, msn logs, emails and music to bring back moments from our past.

Here is to new songs to fit to my memories.

Some full relationship thing...

As Allan would say: Calm down, have some dip.

I'm jaded and fucked up, I've been mangled and now I can't let myself let anything happen.

Talking to Melissa today, who is suspecting her significant other of being unfaithful a few weeks before he was due to move in... this makes me wonder why I would ever let myself get into that sort of situation. So I found myself freaking out. This early into anything it is not a good idea. So I freaked out and ate and now I feel guilty and stupid.

I vascilate wildly between acceptance and rejection, fear and desire. My mind doesn't know what to tell me and damned if anything else my body knows right now makes sense. I'm paranoid and mentally distracted. I am operating on very little sleep. Go to bed.

One Giant Yawn

I can still hear Numoy's voice taunting me:
"Heehee, going steady, full blown couple, FULL BLOWN COUPLE!"
Slut. I am not, we are not, and ARE NOT! Ugh, who am I kidding. I am in this over my head, and will be damned if anything (or anyone) will stop me.

Am utterly wiped right now, got about five hours of sleep. I blame the phone. God if his phone hadn't run out of batteries I might still be talking! After hitting my snooze button five (count it, five) times, I finally dragged my sorry ass out of bed... and am now sitting here in a state of undress debating the weather and whether I want to come home in between classes. To be completely honest I wish I could crawl back into my bed and sleep for a thousand years. I don't think I will be providing any sound academic advice today ("Yeah sure, why not? I mean, its not like the university strictly prohibits being drunk in class, just don't throw things. Exam? Oh well, you know, if you can't be bothered to go, just don't go. You did what? Ah, well, crocodiles are meant for that sort of thing.")

Schoolwork invariably suffers in the face of this, not to mention the stack of internship links on my desk and the niggling voice in my head urging me to find another referee... ahhh shut up! Having nothing to do tonight (except go to work until 7, I love my managers) so I should be able to force myself to do schoolwork. The worst bit is that one day of solid effort would probably put me back on top of things. I have to keep telling myself I will NOT got to CC on Tuesday and instead be responsible. That's right... responsible

Twenty Four Hours... almost

Five hours at the bar, Four little white pills, three hours at tamtams, two hours on the phone, and one joint equals an amazing weekend. For all its odd ends, the past three days... well its been a trip.

Thursday - J-Room (where else) with his friends, and of course Numoy. Love the friends.
Friday - a whole day away is far too long, one huge phone call is not what we are used to.
Saturday - Hockey, Bifteck and Pool...
Sunday - Slow morning, breakfast at one in the afternoon, tamtams and weed, dinner.

How great has this been? How much am I freaking out is more like it. The 'R' word has been used too much recently for my liking, and to be honest, I'm more afraid of what/who I've seemingly become. We are a product of our pasts, and here I am afraid to choose. At least I have my own time and space... and cookies... and Mean Girls.

So much for working this weekend, but to be honest, in beautiful weather and what could be the last tams of the year? I can't worry about it, I had way too much fun.

In the face of it all

"Sad as a lonely little wrinkled balloon

he said I don't seem to be happy about this

and I don't seem to be happy about that

I don't want no part of this crazy love

I don't want no part of your love"

Thanks Paul, you are the best for non-directional reflective times like this. What will I do when I am no longer here?

"Somebody could walk into this room

and say your life is on fire

its all over the evening news

all about the fire in your life

on the evening news"

Numoy sent me a poem today, she is beautiful and cultured and amazing. Mostly because I love her, but as I said last night, when explaining this love: she is incredible.

"there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often when you do it's too late and there's nothing worse than too late"

Jess came with me today, and we sat and joked about sex to lighten the mood. She is entirely lovely and I sometimes forget until I see her smile.

Tonight I am staying in, staving off nausea with candy and junk food, chick-flicks and economics. Maybe not the best combination to settle my stomach, but overall, exactly what I need.

Tomorrow I will wake up and be the same person I have always been. Tomorrow I will be moved and changed by what I have become.

"Don't let it bring you down, its only castles burning"

Something about Thursdays

How much are Thursdays like Fridays... practically the first day of the weekend and so far so good... frankly I enjoy them far more.

Hit up Jupiter Room for the worst 80s night ever, but it was all good. To be honest I was more concerned about my lack of skills than the music ;)

Here is to me getting up for breakfast tomorrow and accomplishing my work objectives: translate into not being a bum.

Working for the man every night and day

So they are trying to get me to quit at work. Without going through the whole sordid affair (and kudos to Numoy and Roomie for putting up with it in its entirety) G has gone behind my back and is trying to force me out. If I wasn't such a hardass I'd maybe quit, I certainly feel unappreciated and angry, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction... plus I have to stay on so I can get a wicked discount on a frame when I graduate. Two of the managers are totally going to bat on my behalf, for which I'm very thankful... am wondering if a card or other thank you would be inappropriate. I'm going to see what happens next week.

Apart from that fiasco, which makes work a hellish political nightmare, I met a very cool (almost too cool) girl today at my new position, and spent an enjoyable four hours talking to her while folding and hanging clothes. We're going to hang out soon sans travail, and I can't wait. She's a total hardass and doesn't take any crap, likes to party: Lovely as. Turns out she is best friends with a girl I was at the castle with this summer, which is funny and a good conversation starter. She also spent time at the castle.

I should be spending less time dicking around/drinking/having sex and more time working, but its lovely and warm outside and I'm not quite in work mode yet. Started to get my Oxford application together, am totally scared to jump into that whole thing... have to start applying for internships and all that soon as well. Gah. Its no wonder I'm going out again tonight!!

Tonight for drunken 80's fun, tomorrow for work. I promise myself and any loyal readers that I will work all day tomorrow. Once I recover from my hangover of course.

More than I can chew

Its days like this one that I wonder just how much I should be trying to handle, and how much of what I take on is over the top. Today I have to volunteer, go to three classes, then work for five hours with no breaks in between these things. I'm missing out on an internship talk and an environment graduate program funding session. I have yet to contact my potential referees and god forbid that I've gotten a good look at my application and thought about a thesis. Jeez.

Maybe I should be doing that now, instead of writing this blog... yeah probably.

Uh Oh

I've opened a box here. At the time, I suspected that I was getting in over my head, but things just took on a whole new dimension. As Roomie said on Saturday: When you're up to your ears in shit, better not open your mouth.

Here we go: I get home from a lovely dinner with two of my favourite girls at one of my favourite restaurants. Any meal topped off with a hot chocolate brownie, vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce and three spoons definitely tops off my list as an awesome meal. On my machine there are three messages. Apartment Boy, rambling about his weekend. Apartment Boy, rambling about something I can't quite make out on my low quality machine. A hang up.

He never calls, let alone twice. Have I opened a box that has led Apartment boy back? Has jealousy made him realize he would like to be with me after all? Or is he merely being friends? What did Roomie say to him today? The curiosity is almost too much. I had a stressful day at work and this is too much to handle right now. He is calling me back in a bit... and I'm compelled to call Roomie to find out what the hell is going on. Actually I'm compelled to throw my phone out the window.

I suspect that I'm in shit further than my ears.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop

So he is going to talk to Apartment boy about it. I am here at home, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Listening to Staind and wondering how we got here, I figure that the worst conclusion to this sordid affair would be losing both of them completely. Making room in my life for people is easy, getting them in to the space is difficult. Apartment boy does not want any space, but will he let it go? I am half-expecting him to freak out about all of this.

I told Roomie last night that I couldn't lie. If asked straight out about all of this, I could not look him in the eyes and tell him nothing was going on. Strange how I just come around to it again and all of a sudden I am here, feeling introspective and nostalgic and thrilled all at once.

Three hours and I've done very little work, I'm utterly preoccupied. I still adore Apartment boy and want this to all work out right. I want us all to be friends. I have promised myself that once I'm done my reading I can get high and contemplate my next move. How much easier would this have been if I had just let it all go?

Though I don't know how I feel

But I know I'll do the right thing

If the right thing is revealed

'Cause its always raining in my head

Forget all the things I should have said

Forget all the things I should have said.

See you all in hell

OW. My knee hurts something fierce and I don't know why. I remember bashing it twice in the same place, but don't recall where that happened. Now all I know is that it hurts. Like a bitch.

And I know that I've slept til noon again and its a gorgeous day and I feel terrible for wasting it. And I need to read. And get groceries.

Out with Allan last night, confessed my crush on Model, which at this point may be a bit far fetched given the Roomie situation. After Thursday night, we will at least meet up in hell when we die, even if nothing else ever happens. Basically, without defiling my blog with gory details, I can't explain the extent of our indiscretions. Suffice to say that the platonic friends thing flew out the window and took the 'fourteen-year-old-boundaries' with it... and since Apartment boy is away for the weekend it all took place in the space he left vacant. *shudder* it was weird for me, and I can't imagine how Roomie felt. We are both going to hell, see you there (for the record I was already going since 'the ditch' this summer with Rebecca and Kat... so you guys can meet him when you get there). To my surprise, and mild chagrin, the smoking thing doesn't bother me as I thought it would, although that may change.

What else? Not much else. Have to wake up and call my mother, then read all day... apparently I'm getting a chance with Model tonight, whatever that means. Damn me and my drunken mouth. I wasn't even drunk! Stupid.

This post is deteriorating into random thought processes, so I'm going to sign off and try to enjoy the sunshine. Go sunshine.

Adore you, I mean you crush me

Ah Dave Matthews always has the words. And me? I have a crush.

As I tried to explain, its a grown up crush, not a 14-year old loving-from-afar kind of crush. Its the kind of crush that I haven't felt in a really long time, and frankly its as scary as it is fun. Regardless of efforts (on his part of course) to 'stay friends', it just doesn't seem to be going through. Anyways, right now I can't comment on any of this, except to say that 'I'm totally crushing' (Amanda, that one was for you!). Perhaps that is half the fun? That we need to keep it a secret from some people. But he hates the lies, and frankly so do I, so it is only a matter of time before the proverbial shit hits the fan. Better enjoy my crush while I can.

Oh, and for those of you with curious/dirty minds? The rest of this crush thing is like I'm 14 as well. And those of you who know me well enough know just how platonic that is. Perhaps that is half the fun?

All I know is that I'm seeing him tonight, and its going to be really difficult to sit around here doing schoolwork all evening... but it also gives me some sort of incentive. Good incentive. Woot.

Off to economics!

Baahaaahaaahaa you slut! I love it!

That title is a quote from Krista... and Anjali. I love those girls.

I still hurt from Monday, I'm sure Jess will be happy to hear it. It doesn't seem to help that I spent yesterday at home feeling wretched, only leaving the house once to watch the hockey game (go Canada).

My time in was facilitated by a visit from Roomie, which began with him reiterating our platonic friendship, and ended with some severe restraint... and likely a cold shower. I don't know what I am going to do there, all I know is I have a crush. Heeheehee.

Am looking forward to playing Barrel of Monkeys with my brand new monkey pen (go Jess) in class, because Apartment boy and I get pretty bored when prof starts repeating his points for the third time. This time I can be the cure for boredom and whip out the monkey pen. So so good.

Am NOT looking forward to working tonight, I'm feeling pretty anti-social and really would prefer to come home and sit alone here reading a book... well I could do with some company, but you know, that's not always possible. Also I'm terribly behind on my readings, having refused to do them on my birthday and being unable to do them yesterday.

Must run, have peer advising in 20 minutes and I'm not washed or dressed. I may be feeling anti-social but I still need to be somewhat presentable.

So so so done.

Okay. Recollecting last night is somewhat difficult, so I'm going to do this systematically:

Girls came over, Sam brought cake, it was tasty.

Model did not come with us.

The french boy showed up.

But left.

What am I doing awake at 8:30? My head hurts.

Roomie came.

Jess bought me beer, so did Jonah, Julia and Roomie... oh dear. No wonder I hurt so much. Ow.

I don't really recall much after those two shots with Julia, so frankly, this is a train-wreck of a post. I can't sleep anymore, and I guess that means I should go to my 10am class... but I refuse to take notes. Ow. I think I turned into 'scary drunk' last night at some point... I don't really know how I got home or who I left at the bar or much else...

It was a great day. I have to go get some advil. And a coffee the size of my head.

My new hole!

Woo! Piercing!

Hi! Yay! I just got pierced! I absolutely love it (as I do all my piercings) and I cannot wait for it to heal up so I can get the fun spiral piece put in. Woo!

Be sure to check back, I'll have drunken updates later provided I don't pass out!

Where does the love go?

Today I realized that the pain in my foot might be a stress fracture. Woot. I also realized that my emotional masochism knows no bounds.

In the final few hours of my twentieth year, I spent a few moments reading over old emails from this past summer. Reflecting on Apartment boy's words, I realized I have no idea where the love went, and can only conclude that it is still around somewhere. Deep within the morass of neuroses and dramatic stresses, I am sure that it is flickering. I cannot prove this, nor will I try to determine the validity of my assumptions by voicing them to him. Right now I just wish the old Apartment boy was here, because he was lovely company, not to mention lovely to look at. I will take this in small baby steps. How did I get so caught up in such a mess of a man? As I said to Roomie, I'm somewhat of an emotional masochist, and that is the only way to explain it.

As for the rest of my life? I cannot help but feel nostalgic around birthdays, so I've been reflecting and ringing old friends. Called Amanda and had a nice chat, I don't like the phone but it is worth it to talk to her. I can't wait until she comes to visit. The castle seems so far away, like a blip in my life. I started thinking about other blips today as well, and frankly, anything absent from this cocoon of Montreal has taken on a sheen of the surreal. Was I in a castle? Was I in England at all? Who are all these contacts on my MSN list? Where was I for my last birthday? How did I get to Waterloo? Did I actually fall in love? The girl from these memories seems like someone from a film, she is not me and yet I know her stories, have felt her joy and pain. Tales of stupidity from First Year seem closer than last July.

And right now I should be hitting my bed, since Jess and I have a birthday breakfast date tomorrow at nine. The day's agenda? Breakfast, class, piercing, chilling solo, chilling with my nearest and dearest, getting drunk with anyone who shows up. I can't wait. Cheers.

Model

Okay so date? Date was fine but not great and I doubt I will see him again. No worries.

But I'd like to introduce someone. Model. Numoy nicknamed him because she has seen him coming from my building and looks like a model. To quote Sex and the City, I believe him to be very cute. And since Roomie won't come over right now, I am fantasizing about Model. He is coming out on my birthday, its a good thing.

Ahhhh, I am such a wastebag. Tomorrow I need to put away my phone and read. Too bad I am having breakfast with my dumpee friend (poor darling) and taking D to tamtams... barring unforseen weather.

Off to bed with Family Guy and myself... at least I know what I like.

Nerves

Oh man. Oh man. Wow.

Okay that hockey game was amazing, really really good. So good. And now its over and I have to leave my house.

I'm so nervous, I don't remember the last time I was this nervous. Heehee.

I'll surely update tonight when I get home.

Mapping...

I think that was it... the mapping of a city, the fact that somehow we all have a different mental map of what a city represents. Where things are, the routes we take to walk around it, these are all unique. Some people have very similar maps. We run into them often, on the street, at bars, they are always around. I have several people I know only by face, and because we see each other crossing paths on a regular basis. There are other people who share my map that I would rather not run in to... and at the same time wish to run into them with all my heart.

Last night was fortuitous and bizarre, heartwrenching and happy. I ran into Roomie and managed to get his number without having to attempt some weird convoluted sneaky way of getting in touch. This was great, he was great, good to see such a wonderful nice guy and know that we can stay in touch. Mostly because he told me that he hadn't called me out of loyalty to Apartment boy. So he figured that now I could call him. But Apartment boy left the club because he knew I was there, and still refuses to return my phone calls. I have never been so disrespected by anyone in my entire life, and this entire episode leaves a bad bad taste in my mouth. Right now I am still hurt, but I want an explanation.

As I said to Roomie later that night... oh wait, right, that bit's important too. As I left the club I thought to myself: I will call him this weekend like I told him I would. I get home, and about halfway through my requisite glass of water and Family Guy episode, my phone rings. Its Roomie. He wants to know if I am still at the club because he wants to dance. I inform him that I'm not, nor is my telephone a cellular, and ask why he has decided to break his decision not to call. I don't recall his answer, but it ended with me inviting him to come over and smoke a joint.

So, where was I? Right: Well as I said to Roomie later that night, when he worried about being there, that Apartment boy has shown utter disdain for me as a person and frankly if he gets upset then he is a bigger hypocrite than I thought. Roomie knows all this, but frankly they are best friends and you know how the rest goes. The bottom line? He stayed until 5:30, against his better judgment, and left not knowing if he would tell Apartment boy or not. I told him to keep me posted, he understood. We are both worriers.

Here's to platonic friends.

Feeling more like talking...

Okay, maybe ranting.

Basically, men are jerks. Not all men, I love my male friends, and I love men in general, but right now I am entitled to a little man-bashing. Being jerked around is not my forte, but to be honest with all of you (and myself, the best kind of honest) I have a tendency to put up with emotional 'jerking around'. And put up I have... well not any more. This is bullshit, this is supreme bullshit, and I blatantly refuse.

I need to get my clothes back, but refuse to do that in the rain... he is not worth the effort. Maybe tomorrow. I am hoping that he will not be home, because then I can avoid the awkward business. Then again, unless he has dropped it we are in a class together, but that shouldn't be a problem. Hooray, for once Leacock 132 works in my favour!

But I DO have a date on Saturday, AND its my birthday next week, AND I've reconnected with some lovely friends who I drifted away from in the last few years, so all is well!

On other notes? Its pouring with rain and for the first time I'm thrilled to be a block from campus and surrounded by McGilligans. I expect to find a sodden Numoy halfway between here and the bar tonight. Oh yes, tonight I'm venturing back to Gerts in aid of getting Baseball rookies very very drunk... and Numoy agreed to accompany me if I promised we could leave when she stopped having fun. Allan is convinced he is going to hook me up with rookies, I am convinced I will end up at Jupiter Room. Wet, because of the rain.

Off to read before class!

I know, six days...

... and what have I been doing with myself? Drinking, losing my voice, working, schooling, kissing a french boy, being jerked around and being hurt... the standard stuff I suppose.

Don't really feel like talking right now, I kinda want a big hug from someone, and he's not accessible right now. Its not the guy who jerked me around, but I can't get at him without going through the former. Boourns.

I am really hurting, I hate boys. I'm really starting to consider giving up on any of them that remotely appear interesting... the interesting ones are always screwups who will break your heart. From now on its asexual men and safe 'boy next door' types. There's one down the hall, but I worry that my inclinations towards him are due to my heartbreak and not due to any particular liking... although I did check him out in first year.

Anyways, things are busying up and I will try to keep this up to date, I'm bad at that though. Its my 21st soon, and I'm starting to have that 'this is not where I should be at 21' freak out. Stay tuned, it should be fun.

The Island of Lost Men

I know its been a while, but things have been insane what with classes starting and all that jazz.

Today I'd like to talk about something that's been on my mind recently, because in the past week I've not been able to swing a sack of doorknobs without hitting an ex. Seriously... except for the doorknob part, that's me embellishing.

When I break up with guys... and when they break up with me... eventually they all end up somewhere I like to call The Island of Lost Men. Basically its a mental place that they go to after I've cut them out of my life. I tend to do that, and I'm not really proud of it but frankly its the way things seem to run with me.

This summer I ran into one such boy at a certain Irish Bar, and am still hoping to track down his email address so we can keep in touch this time around. Seems it took five years or so for us to come around to friends. Since coming back to Montreal I've had three guys resurface, not unpleasantly, but often awkwardly... culminating today in a grand display of strange twists and answering machine messages.

Last night I decided to send Apartment Boy off, because I was finally sick of being jerked around and took telephone silence to mean "I don't like you anymore" and decided to leave it at that. After feeling marginally rejected (but after last winter, I don't know that I can be hurt by someone I only slightly saw for a very short amount of time) I said "Fuck Him" and sent him off on his way. Remember this bit, it comes into play later.

Okay so I went to economics class this morning, and a cute boy smiles at me from across the room. This never happens to me, so I wonder if its someone else. There is clearly eye contact and I do recognize him from somewhere, so I slowly walk over, hoping my memory will kick in. Oh it did. This guy was my first kiss. It was very nice to see him, and see how cute he (still) is, and have a good chat until class started. That was the strange but pleasant beginning to my day.
Then some stressful things happened (which I won't get in to) and I ended up rushing home to grab lunch before my next class. Three phone messages. #1 - My mother. #2 - Apartment Boy claiming he was very sorry and understands that I would be pissed. Here's where that story comes in: Once they are gone to the Island, they don't come back. Now I'm faced with deciding whether to keep flogging what appears to be a dead horse, except that sometimes the dead horse gasps and flails its limbs and seems alive. At least... Well that kiss was definitely alive. Men are ridiculous. Of course, since he never picks up his phone (he claims he does, so hear me saying that in a sarcastic but sweet tone, because I do find everything he does endearing on some level), I have now broken a rule of the Island and called him and left a message. Stupid stupid stupid.

Oh and message 3? That was from my most recent ex, whom I cannot work out my feelings for and who is now coming to visit me for the day on Sunday. I am really excited to see him but am worried that "I'm totally OK" will turn into "I'm a sobbing mess" and just hoping that I can hold off the transformation until he leaves and my friends can pick up the pieces. As Nunj said to me today when I told her all this: I will find you in shambles on my walk to school.

Shambles indeed, at least life isn't boring.