Day 3

Yesterday sucked. It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst Monday I have had in memory. Without getting into details, suffice to say that it was cold, he was cold, and my night was cold and sleepless. Here's to hoping Tuesday will be better.

Reflection on all of this will have to come later, since right now I have to be in class in twenty minutes and am still wet-haired and in my housecoat. Not to mention unprepared for the debate I have to give. Not to mention terrified of running into him again. Stupid coinciding schedule.

For now, it is dissipating, but I had a dream about him last night. It was during a fleeting moment of true sleep. He was kneeling at the bathtub testing the temperature of the water. I walked over to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. He looked up, and asked me where the soap went, and I fetched him a box from the cupboard, even though he knows full well that's where I keep the soap. I smiled because he is difficult that way, and bent down to hug him and kissed his neck. "I missed you these past few days" I murmured.

"I missed you too" he replied.

Rules

Break-Up Rules

1. Girlfriends Girlfriends Girlfriends. They will always be there. Numoy shot her day to shit to be with me, and she is lovely and amazing. The perfect combination of sympathetic and patient ear (for all the whining and repeating of things) and funny comments and anecdotes to distract me.
2. Stake out territory. Shared places don't have to be the location of a custody battle, but if you give in then he gets them. Don't give in. The satisfaction I felt when he waltzed down the stairs at my favourite (and his favourite) bar, and saw me swigging a beer and smiling widely at him and his friends... just priceless.
3. Get rid of it. The bad karma, his toothbrush, his towel, the soap he used, the t-shirt he always borrowed. On top of all these things, shower and use a heavy scrub on your skin, wash away all the bad karma, do laundry, clean your sheets, clean your apartment.
4. Get it back. Arrange as soon as possible to get your shit back that he still has. In my case, books and my ID. The longer you put it off the worse it will get.
5. Look hot. Nothing makes you feel even shittier about yourself than looking like a total bum. The temptation is to not put the effort in, but really, if you look hot you will feel better.

That's all for now, I have to go apply number 6 for me, which is change something. Will post a pic.

Is it me?

I am such an idiot. He pays me lip service. I am going to bed.

Its not too late

Its only twenty past ten, its a Friday night, I'm all dressed up and my 'go' hasn't materialized yet. Frustration is not my favourite place. Then again, its not too late.

As if nerves weren't enough, I hate waiting, and yet again I am. I had a call in and got nothing, so told myself to wait half an hour. I could be at J's show, and I'm going to be doubly upset if I have to miss it... wait scratch that, I am going to be doubly upset if I have missed it for no reason. I have a sinking feeling that my plans are going to fall through... and I'm having such a pretty night too. Not that it would be so bad to get some work done tonight, I know that staying at home would not lead to work, instead I'd go for a walk and lament deadbeats. Except its cold out. I am shaking... I need to calm down.

SUCK

SUCK SUCK SUCK. Suck.

That is all. I will spare you all the bitching behind it.

SUCK.

I'm a sucker

Maybe.

Last night I went for a walk in the rain. I've been feeling really restless. Julia claims its due to the low pressure system hanging over the city, and I'm inclined to believe her, it would explain why I feel this way in Vancouver more often than in Montreal.

I walked for an hour. An hour I could have spent working, but I didn't care. The rain was light, the air slightly warmer than I expected, and my feet carried me away from home and into the city. I love walking here, there's something neat around every bend, even if I have seen it all before. I let my feet take me where they want to go, there's no plan, no time limit. I love the freedom, the music in my ears playing a soundtrack to the city, imposing my thoughts upon her face. By the time I got home I was wet and tired, but not tired enough to sleep. There were no messages on my answering machine. It felt as if nobody existed but me in this huge lit town, the lights were on to trick me into feeling less alone. I lay awake wondering where we all were, where we were going, and who we were going with. Thinking about love, about how crazy things had become, how randomly things happened, how connected everything could be, tracing my life back to a single event and reversing it, wondering who I might have become. Its strange to see your life as it could have been. And then I thought: No Regrets. This is who I am.

Pleasantly Confuzzled

So apparently I should get drunk and belligerent more often... or maybe just belligerent. Regardless, something I did must have tweaked something in him, because where once I had an emotionally unavailable boyfriend with an aversion to seeing me more than twice a week, who had previously been a terribly available boy I was seeing to the point where I became frightened, I now have a somewhat emotionally restrained boyfriend who has suddenly become very sweet and attentive... sortof.

I have seen him for the past three days... he is now not only returning my calls, but initiating exchanges and insinuating wanting to come over. He did a drop by last night for no reason, uninvited. Apart from looking like a total bum who hadn't showered all day, I was super touched. We cuddled... god almighty. He napped on my couch, accepted my offer to stay and work on his essay here instead of leaving for the library, only leaving when he couldn't get anything done. And when he didn't come back (I'd told him I didn't want to hear from him if it was late, as I'd be catching up on much needed sleep) he left an email for me apologizing. This is not the man I was dating a week ago. All I know is that without any silly games, in fact, by going off at him about the stuff that pissed me off, he has come back around somewhat.

Thank god he doesn't read this blog. Now I have to go one-page summarize the book I read last night while he was sleeping on my couch. By the By, I am addicted to www.keyhole.com, which I found on www.metafilter.com, which I am also addicted to. Please check them out in all their time-wasting glory (and keyhole has a 7 day trial offer right now!!)

Book titles and other woes.

Telling myself not to expect anything yesterday, I settled in to write my essay. Its not as ugly as it was, in fact, its one of my less ugly babies this term. Apart from my freak-out about primary sources (and I am still a supreme academic failure because of it) it turned out fine. Its now sitting on my screen awaiting the print... but I'm trying to come up with a title.

This is something I've noticed: Books used to just have titles, now they have composite titles. Ooooohhhh composite. Like, instead of just calling a book "A Brief History of the U.S. Environmental Movement", it has to be called "First Along The River: A Brief History of the U.S. Environmental Movement", and instead of being, "American Environmentalism at the Close of the Twentieth Century", it becomes "Losing Ground: American Environmentalism at the Close of the Twentieth Century". Now I can see the point of all this, oh yes. Obviously, titles with some sort of interesting aspect to them are catchier, and sexier, and make you stand out. I mean, who wants to read something called "The American Response to the Environment in the Twentieth Century", we'd much rather read it if it has "Saving the Planet:" tacked on the front. Oooh I'm saving the planet, let's read this one!! Okay, maybe I'm making a big stink about nothing, but when you've spent weeks reading these books it becomes sortof funny in a strange sort of way. Did I mention that my essay now has a composite title? Oh yeah. Because who wants to read something titled "Silent Spring and the 1960s environmental movement", I'll definitely get a better mark by adding "The right place at the right time:". Shut up. No shut up. Well I think its clever. Maybe if you did weeks of research you'd understand it too. No you're being unreasonable. *throws "First Along The River" at you*... see, it makes a better weapon with a composite title...

...aaaanyways, the rest of my story goes as such: phone rings at eight, numerous insinuations about the rest of my evening and how I plan on spending it. I ignore them. The third one I respond to with a sly comment about maybe someone wanting to hang out. Games aside, because I refused to let them get in the way of me getting some (and getting some motivation to conclude my essay, which I was struggling with), so I believe I came out on top of this one in more ways than one. Neither of us mentioned the fight, except my murmured apology about my friends being belligerent, and how their opinions in no way reflected my own. I smell his girlfriends in this, and I'm glad they are sensible creatures. So things seem to be back on track, my essay is done and I'm going out tonight. Life is good.

Gloomy Sunday

So I hate my essay. HATE... hate so much. I am afraid that my lack of primary sources will mark me as a shitty academic... and really, I don't know why I didn't figure this out when I was doing all my research three weeks ago... but apparently I am a shitty academic. Go figure. So I spent the last two hours getting chocolate, eating chocolate, and fucking with my earrings to get one to go through the two holes in my ear. It is now throbbing, but that might just be because I've been fucking with it for the past twenty minutes.

Got a phone call at two this morning, debated (oh so briefly) whether to berate the caller for the hour or just to be thankful and express my appreciation. Of course being the sensible woman that I am, I picked the latter. AND being the sensible woman that I am (aided by drugs and my essay of course) I have resolved to be good today and begin what George (if that was his name) was encouraging me to embark upon. I loathe games but as he put it: See it as fun, as a game, enjoy playing it. So here I am... ooh how much do I enjoy power... right... what power.

This earring is pinching somewhat, it might not last, but hopefully the piece I ordered will arrive and I won't need some shoddy piece I created myself with some pliers. Back to my crap paper, I cannot procrastinate any longer!

The sound of Great Big Sea

I don't usually shower at night before bed, because wet hair and bed is no fun, but MAN did I ever need a shower this time!! Just got back from Great Big Sea, which is exactly what I needed to clear my head and cure the blues. Best concert ever... maybe even better than when I saw them two years ago. They are just so much fun and so upbeat and everyone dances around like maniacs! Ran into Trouble whom I utterly adore, jumped around with him for a while... overall an amazing night even though I still can't get a hold of Roomie.

He did ring, I think things are okay... seems to be a mutual case of 'don't bring it up', which is more than fine. Like I said the last go around: Let's focus on what is there, rather than what isn't. Anyways. I was hoping to get some love tonight, but since that is looking less and less likely, I'll suffice with my grilled cheese sandwiches while my hair dries and a good night's sleep so I can write my essay tomorrow.

I just have to stay strong, not call him, and let things work themselves out.

The sound of silence

It is four thirty, my house is deadly quiet except for the sound of my fingertips tapping the keyboard. I am pretending to work on my essay.

In reality every fiber is stretched towards the telephone, I will jump a mile when Jess calls me, hoping against hope that I will have an apology coming.

I have played out all possible scenarios in my head. Last night we were just in shitty moods, and I know that once we get back to where we were things will be good again. Last night was the last straw and I will come home tonight to hear his voice on my machine. Last night was the end, and nothing but silence will greet me. If I didn't have an essay to write I'd go out and get gloriously drunk, but alas, here I am with my barely four pages and outline. At least things are going well with it, although I'm sure that without that distraction I would have six pages written.

And I want to have fun tonight, and nothing ruins a night like being dumped, except waiting to maybe be dumped.

If I could get a hold of him I could preemptively dump him.

What a night

I walked home dry eyed, despite trying to force tears. I had no right and every right. I was in turmoil, and I still am. I yearn yet I am repulsed, I cannot live without him and he is the worst man I have ever met. I am not angry, but I am hurt and broken inside, still, from all of it.

"What is your boyfriend's name" - I think, what boyfriend? You mean the sexy man that I am trying to get into bed? Wait a minute... that is my boyfriend.

And I should watch my mouth, but if I have to watch it them how can things be right?

And now I cannot leave a message when only words will do, I am sick of talking in circles but I can't let him leave like this. He walks away with nothing and everything. I don't know if things are busy or if I have been forcibly shut out.

And this is getting to be too much, too little, too late for any salvation. I need him. Worst of all, I love him.

Tattoos, smoking and other vices

Last night I was going to go to Bifteck for one drink, ended up having three and coming home at midnight, dragging on a cigarette.

This is the old part of the story. It has suppressed my appetite and today I find myself feeling sick and not at all hungry, ooh the evils of smoking.

I also find myself gazing lovingly at my proposed tattoo design, contemplating colours, locations and other lovely things. I am excited already, although I told myself I couldn't get it until I was leaving the city... I may have to cave and do it earlier.

Other vices? Men. Somehow I always end up dating Mr. Big, or maybe men are all just somehow like Mr. Big. I am marginally okay with having a part-time relationship... in fact, apart from needing some attention more frequently than that, it makes me pretty darn satisfied to have this halfway business, as strange as it feels to call him my 'boyfriend'. Although, I'd like to know that he is not screening me, that he has good reasons for not returning my phone calls. What happened to the attentive boy I was dating a little while ago? Why do men think that they can just 'get lazy' and stop calling? Bastards. So here I am, in a shitty mood over a man instead of excited to go party with my ladies tonight. I blame him if I have a crap night.

Blond Boy

Blond Boy has been my crush since first year, my unattainable sexy crush. So I ran into him tonight... his friend used my smoke to light his joint, and Blond Boy hugged me and kissed me... so I came home and called him... is that so wrong? I mean, what have I got to lose? Right. Right... so now if he doesn't ring back I will be crazy, but anyways, as Numoy said... gotta love the D.

Midterm my foot

So I have this exam tomorrow called a 'Quiz', but its worth 20% of my grade, so really I should study... damn studying!

Should also be writing my paper, but meh.

Managed to get a fix last night, now if only I could get my cravings to subside... the problem with this is how hopelessly addictive my personality is, not to mention a certain 'nymphomaniachal' quality I have been known to possess... thanks Dan for that one.

On to my early morning breakfast with Jess. She is always good for a rational discussion of life, the universe and everything. In light of all of it, I have decided that no, I am not really ready to leave, and no that is not a problem! I spoke to one professor and I will speak to more, I will find a job here, I will stay for the summer! This city is my home and I love it here and I refuse to let the negative psychic space in my original home destroy whatever progress I have made. This is my last stand!! So in order of preference (drumroll please):

1. Oxford
2. Floor fellowship and academics (I could use another major)
3. Part time work and part time academics (provided I can make enough this summer)
4. Work here
5. Some neat internship somewhere
6. Anything else
7. Going home to work as a monkey and waiting for my ship to come in

Coincidence?

I have had a few coincidences today... not huge ones really, but big enough to get the gears in my mind going. I'm having some thoughts about the boys in my life.

Coincidence number one - Running into Roomie both before and after class (he rarely goes, and when he does he leaves early). He is being wierd again.
Coincidence number two - Running into Curly, who came over for tea. I am now thinking things I shouldn't be thinking.
Coincidence number three - Running into Roomie again (randomly) at the library as I was leaving. Still wierd.

Hmmm. The worst bit is? I should probably break things off with Roomie seeing as how its not really a relationship, but to be honest, I am really frustrated and I anticipate that trend to continue, and having a 'steady' who I can depend on at least a few times a week is pretty darn worth it... at least to me. What is a bit of emotionally masochistic behaviour on my part in exchange for some good lovin'? Nothing, no trade off at all.

Funny people...

Funny friends have funny friends who have funny friends. Got it? Good. Numoy has a friend who had a funny msn name... and I liked it so much that I will post it, because I just finished a very long day (class, work, library, economics) and I'm tired and I want to pass out.

"i like my penis, it has a head, and a mouth and it talks to me. and i pet it in return. 'good penis, you are so nice'"

LOL!

Going crazy

I had a bout of insomnia last night so I'm feeling slightly worn today... which is too bad because I told myself that I would go to the library and work efficiently after work today until ten. I am already behind, because instead of working during my hour break, I have to go home and make food to take with me to the library.

Here's my crazy moment: I am at my volunteer job right now, and next to me is a window into someone's office. The Venetian blinds are half closed, so I can see my reflection in them, but also sortof see the person inside. A few minutes ago, I glanced over and saw my reflection moving. I freaked out. "Holy Shit!" I thought, "my reflection is moving and I'm not. Holy shit, everything's crazy, I'm crazy, this is insane, why am I moving, I'm not moving..." and so on. Until I realized that it was the woman inside the office waving her arms and talking on the phone. The point is it took me way too long to figure this out. Alright, enough insanity, I want a chocolate chip muffin.

1/8 - Here is a photo-story of my trip to Kingston last weekend... it took this long because some of the best ones were on Amanda's camera and I only just received them. We managed to find some Blackthorn cider at the LCBO, which reminded us of nights spent at the castle pub, even though it was way better out of the tap. Was also lucky because it was about all we could stomach after Friday night!!

2/8 - We went to Peel Pub, which is much nicer than the one here. Even though they were serving Canadian, we managed to recreate some of the drunken castle good times.

3/8 - Amanda and I ended up playing drums at Alfies, we sucked, but nobody seemed to mind! I don't remember, but apparently Care fell asleep/passed out on top of me that night.

4/8 - The next morning was pretty rough... ...so we hung around Care's room and played with her box'o'bones.

5/8 - Amanda was scared of them at first...

6/8 ...but eventually she came around.

7/8 - Her and I even managed to find our way home from dinner alone while Care was sleeping off her wretched hangover.

8/8 - Another night out, this time on Guinness night at an Irish Pub, and it was time to head home to Montreal. It was one fabulous reunion, here's to the next one!!

I Heart Huckabees

Tonight I was told No again, so I took myself out to a movie. I Heart Huckabees. Heartily endorsed, it was a strange and entertaining ride. Seeing Mark Wahlberg as a fireman was really worth the price of admission... I like a scruffy man who feels passionately about environmental issues... even if his character is a bit of a wackjob. But seriously, its all good, so do check it out.

I can quote Amy Mann with impunity: "No is the saddest experience you'll ever do." I hit the nail on the head when I was speaking to Curly about it tonight: I hate being told no. And its all sorts of No's that are getting me. But I digress.

So there's no party, I am meant to work tonight. But I have no focus. What's new? Maybe I need to get laid... this is something to consider, but I have no recourse to a booty call tonight. This post is nothing but procrastination and a fake movie review. I suck.

Ring damn you ring!

Ode to my DivaCup

NOTE: TODAY'S POST MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR MEN

Oh DivaCup, why did it take me so long to see? Why was I so blind? Blind to your convenience, your heavenly comfort, your ability to make my life so much freer?

My DivaCup is my new best friend. Seriously I have never been so happy after spending thirty-five dollars. Its only Day 2 and I'm already pretty pro, right now I'm going on seven hours!! Hee!

So my point: Ladies, I know it seems icky, and at first its a bit strange, but its really not that bad, trust me. The benefits for a bit of ickiness are well worth it:
1. Better for your body - no bleached products, risk of TSS or getting a YI!
2. Better for the environment - think about how much waste you are preventing!!
3. Better for your wallet - let me put this in terms we can all love and understand. If you spend $15 a month right now, your DivaCup pays for itself after two. In a year you'd save $180, and over the lifetime of the cup (about ten years) you'd save $1800!! Holy Shit!!! Think about all the booze/chocolate you could buy! You could take up smoking! Well... not the last one...
4. No more sneaking away to the bathroom with your purse, with a tampon concealed in your sweater or anything...
5. No more needing to worry about changing your tampon every four hours (or more, if you have 'bad' days) - Try once every twelve hours!!

Finally, I will conclude this shameless plug by saying that I love my DivaCup and it shocks and appalls me that we didn't figure this out a hell of a lot sooner. So stick it to the capitalist man, forcing you to spend your ice cream money on his bleached, waste-heavy menstrual products. Go buy a DivaCup then a nice treat for yourself!!

www.divacup.com

Remember?

Today is remembrance Day. I like that much better than 'Veteran's Day' in the States, because I feel that the latter just doesn't encompass what the day is meant to be about... which is maybe why the US is involved in a war right now... they just have the wrong attitude about the whole thing.

My basic understanding of remembrance Day is derived from 'lest we forget', because really, its about more than just honouring the people who fought and died for our freedom. Its about recognizing the tragedy and waste of war, and remembering how capable we are of ensuring our own destruction, especially today in the Nuclear Age. I'm not trying to be a doom-sayer, I'm just pointing out the facts.

Anyways, my arrogant economics professor won himself some points today by having a minute of silence in class. This is new and exciting for me, because here in Quebec, they don't really 'do' remembrance Day... in fact, they don't do it at all. They weren't big fans of the war in the first place, and even though the rest of Canada had to be drafted and fight and die, they felt they were above the whole British war business. Well that's enough history. Sitting through my minute of silence, all I could hear were waves.

See, this summer, the Castle took us on a trip to Dieppe. For the non-history students: Dieppe is the site of the (in)famous Dieppe Raid (aka Operation Jubilee), which went down in August 1942. The Raid had a few purposes, firstly to test the viability of an amphibious landing. As we'll recall, the war at this point was happening mostly in Africa and on the Eastern Front (Barbarossa having begun the previous summer) and Stalin is getting pretty ancy. So the second purpose of Dieppe was to get Stalin of Churchill's back about opening a second front... I could go on. The significance of Dieppe to us Canadians, is that the majority of soldiers sent to 'test out' the amphibious landing capabilities of the Allies were Canadian, somewhere in the region of 80-85%. The tragedy of Dieppe is that the raid was a total failure, and almost 1000 Canadian soldiers were killed on the beaches that day.

Last July, standing on the beach in front of a monument to Canadian soldiers, all I could hear was the waves. The beaches on either side of the Channel are made up of fist-sized rocks, and the sound of the powerful waves crashing up the shore is incredible. We have all seen pictures of D-Day landings, seen movies showing terrified young men crouched in landing craft, faced with a beach covered in barbed wire, mines and surrounded by German artillery. One thing we never realise is how loud those waves are. They drag the stones across each other and create a constant deafening roar, the rhythmic pounding and scraping, it is indescribable. But the terror of those landings cannot be intimated by pictures alone, by films... if those films had the surf as loud as it really is, we would not hear the actors, the screams, the gunfire would be muffled by the sounds of rocks. This sound, eternal, as I stood with my feet in the water, the three-foot waves, soaked to the knees in the English Channel, and overwhelmed with grief as I listened to the sea mourn my country's dead. The sound of those waves makes me shiver in fear, and for a brief second I can close my eyes and imagine what it might have been like to be crouched in a landing boat, with no idea what was waiting on the other side, and hearing only the deafening roar of waves crashing up the beach.

What I learned yesterday

Yesterday Julia saved me from my insanity, and we had a good laugh about most things, and I learned something funny and interesting.

Ever heard of Traumatic Masturbatory Syndrome? I hadn't either, but its not a joke. It exists. I will spare you the details of course, but basically it is a syndrome caused by masturbating in an incorrect fashion. I know! How can you 'masturbate wrong'? But you can, and after reading this, if I were a guy masturbating incorrectly, I'd stop doing it: http://www.healthystrokes.com/

Anyways, the best part was when we started going through our respective lists and realizing that both of us had been with guys who could not get off... strange? It was at the time. Now I know better. It wasn't me, it was them, caused by their masturbatory trauma.

Those days

You know those great days? Those days when you are just happy for no reason, just feeling good, energized, like nothing can stand in your way? When you look up at the sky and feel great because its there? When your step is light and your heart is full and you just can't help but grin at strangers on the street? Because you love it, you love life, you love everything that is going on in that singular second and cannot help but smile?

Now imagine that every day is like that. That every day you have at least one moment walking when you think "Holy shit, everything is fucking incredible, life is fucking great and if time froze right now I couldn't be happier". Sure it comes and goes, but you know that almost every single day you have this feeling of joy.

Welcome to my life.

The problem...

The problem with essays is that I procrastinate

The problem with procrastinating is that I don't get shit done

The problem with not getting shit done is that I have to do it later

The problem with doing it later is that I want to go out later

The biggest problem is that three A's means I have a positive reinforcement of my negative behaviour.

Such a sweet day

Well, apart from the fact that I can't go celebrate any of its sweetness and have to write my paper instead.

#1 - My History paper got pushed back 1 week, to quote Sam: "Dr. Troy is a God"
#2 - I am now the proud owner of a DivaCup... and will admit that I was so excited when I got home that I had to try it even though I won't need it for another few days
#3 - I went to work and made money
#4 - Instead of being raped by that economics midterm, I somehow managed to bend it over the desk and take advantage of it. That's right economics, who's your daddy?

Weekend of Fun

Kudos to Care and Mands for a wicked weekend, and all the rest of the Queen's crew. From a classy Peel Pub to bones, it was a really really good time... I can't wait for our next reunion, tentatively scheduled for February. Best quote of the weekend?
"Care, what's your middle name?"
"Carolyn"
"So... so... what... your name's like Carolyn Carolyn?"
"No..."
"I was going to say, your parents are really stupid... but its just me"
Maybe you had to be there, Amanda is priceless, and we even got some air guitar action going in between the sketchy men attempting us at the Irish pub. Good times.

So now I'm back to reality and papers and general academic love. It's a beautiful and cold day in Montreal. Got no sleep last night, but managed to put my foot down on drinking excessively (okay, I did drink the whiskey against my best judgment...) but feel okay and raring to go on my paper tonight, after I go back to class, advising, and work.

What's new? Not much apart from the insanity of the weekend! My history paper got pushed back, so now I get to actually work on my environment assignment instead of feeling guilty. And go out this weekend. As Amanda would say, "Woot"

Talk talk

My phone calls with Curly always turn into talks about sex. My phone calls with Roomie are non-existant. Not to mention my sex with Roomie. Something wrong about this picture. Boyfriend calls with Curly, no boyfriend anything with Roomie, who is meant to be my boyfriend. So here I am, enraged and trying to work.

On Tuesday he said that he wouldn't want to change me, but here I am changed... that's a problem. My two week expiry period is almost up, and off I am this weekend, I can almost smell the break-up talk. But his hug goodbye was so good, and he kisses me like he wants to stick around... so basically I will give some ultimatum, and he will get bitter, and we will break up. Its sad. And hating to be someone to jump around, but Curly looks better and better juxtaposed with Roomie. But I adore Roomie.

As I said to Numoy, I am enraged. Must go attempt to work so that I don't explode when I get back from K-Town.

One crazy life

Sheryl Crow's 'Strong Enough' will always remind me of Jonah. His admission to owning Women & Songs 2 and loving that song was made in jest, but now its embedded in my musical memory. And as it came to play at 1:15 on a Tuesday morning, after a day spent in ineffective recuperation and attempted schoolwork, I came to recall how we had met three years ago. Three years. Who am I to have come so far in so little time? These people who truly love me. I am always shocked. Why did I have to come so far to find kindred souls? People who live the way I always tried to, the way I am afraid I will lose when I leave here. These people are so unique, and how can I find them in another city, another world?

Yet I still can't be true to myself, I still can't sit still and breathe and know me. Or rather, the knowledge is still eclipsed by all the noise of the world embedded within me. I was making so much progress to be so shattered last winter, and frankly, for all that I have learned, I would erase all of it to start anew with someone else. I have become jaded and lost and bitter. I am insecure and neurotic. I have become a victim of adoration, craving and rejecting it as I claw back towards the knifepoint. I will make it home.

I am terrified of leaving this place, of losing my centre as I did once before. These people define me, this city by its wet streets and blowing winds. But it will be gone even if I stay. I am striving to accept its loss even now, while ignoring it. I go on to graduate school not because I wish to remain a student, but because this life brings out my best, and I love myself here in this breath.

If only now I could love myself when my phone ceases ringing, when my bed grows cold and my heart sits on the shelf. And this song has been sitting in my head these past empty nights.

"Come to me now and lay your hands over me

Even if it's a lie, say it will be alright

And I shall believe

I'm broken in two, and I know you're on to me

That I only come home, when I'm so all alone

But I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way you think it ought to be

It seems like every time I try to make it right it all comes down on me

Please say honestly you won't give up on me

And I shall believe

Open the door and show me your face tonight

I know it's true, no one heals me like you

And you hold the key

Never again would I turn away from you

I'm so heavy tonight, but your love is alright

And I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way you think it ought to be

It seems like every time I try to make it right it all comes down on me

Please say honestly you won't give up on me

And I shall believe

I shall believe"