If Only In My Dreams

I like waking up before the sun rises, getting ready for work in the dark, and arriving at the bus stop just as the sun touches the horizon from below. The clouds light up in shades of purple and red and orange, and I am alone at my stop, dressed and ready for another day. I like being on the bus with everyone else, feeling as if I am a part of the greater picture, a small person in a large world, going about my day.

I suppose Christmas is coming soon, although I can barely feel it. I spend my days catering to the needs of others, whether it's a t-shirt for the boyfriend, denim for the son, hoodie for the granddaughter. I write out gift receipts and put collapsed boxes in bags, reassure anxious buyers that yes, the hoodie will fit, and yes, if it doesn't, you can bring it back (as long as it's before the 7th of January and you have your receipt!). I always feel cold inside. I wish I knew how to warm me up. I wish I could feel Christmas.

I leave for Toronto next Thursday, to see my favourite people and favourite places. I'm hoping this New Year's Eve will be better than the last (oh, isn't that what we always wish for), or, at the very least, that I will remember it this time.

There are days like today where nothing really makes sense, and I can imagine myself in a million other scenerios, ones in which I am capable of complete, utter happiness. These moments have been happening far too often. This is where I can see the years behind me, so far away, and the years ahead stretched out so that I can't see the end. And yet it seems, there is never enough time.

Renata's Bests of December (so far):
+Crave
+Band of Horses
+Oolong Tea House
+Air Canada
+my new cell phone
+christmas lights
+eggnog

Merry New Year and Happy Chrismukkah, everyone.

In The Devil's Territory

Sunday morning.

My mother is sick in bed, has been for a couple days now, and she may need to go back to the hospital. I hate being here all alone with her like this, it's depressing and upsetting. I can handle it, but I don't want to live it alone. Now I understand why it helps to have people around to support you, why family is so important.

Tonight is my work Christmas party. I am planning on drinking as much as I can in order to numbify my circumstances, my shortcomings, and my disappointments. I miss my friends. I am strong, but sometimes I feel as if I am not strong enough, not enough to bear all that is bestowed upon me. I wish for an escape. A rescue, even. Something to take me away from it all.

I sometimes forget to eat enough, between working, my almost daily visits to the gym, and my now-often anxiety. I've realized that I am getting too good at being distant and cold, because it hurts less. I need to be careful to not get too thin. It might just happen one day, I'll realize that a part of me is missing. And by then, it'll be too late.

Fred Astaire

Last night, I discovered the Documentary section at Blockbuster. Before this, I had assumed that only tiny, independent movie stores had such sections, and that only tiny, independent movie stores could fulfill my inherent need for independent films, foreign films, and documentaries. I am both overjoyed and disappointed by this revelation.

I also discovered Twinings tea at Safeway, which basically means that I will be enjoying authentic Irish Breakfast and Earl Grey whenever I feel the need. On my to-do list is a visit to Oolong Tea House in Kensington to top up my stash of Market Spice black tea and take a long walk along the river.

On Tuesday night, the girls and I went downtown to see our manager perform with his band at the HiFi club. It was the coldest night of our cold wave, and your typical indie-rock scene: bottles of beer and tables lit by tea lights, tattoos and awesome hair among the 20-and-30-something sceners. The club itself had the perfect artistic touch, murals on the walls reminiscent of your favourite iPod commercial.

The mall I work at became instantly busier yesterday, it being December 1st. The collective consciousness became aware that yes, it is December, and yes, Christmas is imminent, and if you do not start your shopping now, death will come swiftly and painfully. I haven't started my shopping.

Peacock Skeleton With Crooked Feathers

Sometimes I don't even recognize myself. In pictures, in the mirror, from this summer and summers past, sometimes in my own writing. Not because I look any different than usual, but because it's as if I never really knew me. These days, nothing much happens, and I am letting weeks go by without even noticing. Christmas is in less than a month now, and that means I am even closer to my Ontario trip. By the time I get there, it will have been 4 solid months away from Ontario. 4 much needed months away.

It's snowing a blue streak here, extremely cold with a snowfall warning in effect. I didn't leave the house today. Instead, I cleaned my room, read a book by the fire, and ate cookies. Glorious.

Every day, I look more and more like a 15-year-old boy. I don't really bother with my hair anymore, which of course only makes it look it's best, and working at a clothing store only further improves my style (and expands my wardrobe). I now own 17 pairs of jeans. That I wear. I won't even try to count the number of t-shirts I have, because obviously a jeans-and-t-shirt girl will have a lot of jeans and t-shirts. And really, really cute shoes.

I digress.

Christmas is coming, and I've sold my soul to the devil. I am the retail whore, in chains and fire and brimstone and on the road to perdition.

I present my newest tattoo (from September 10th, 2006):

Alone Together

We can never have it quite good enough. We can never keep it, no matter what. nothing in this life was meant to last forever; even the tiniest particle, the largest indestructible force will collapse someday. To my left sits a book on quantum physics, Miles Davis' album Kind of Blue (the essential jazz recording), photographs, unopened bars of dark belgian chocolate, and unused rolls of film. Right in front of me sits a large, glowing, white screen that is full of promise.



I want to write tonight. A want is very different than a can, a want is an impulsive, fleeting feeling that could logically pass at any given moment. I can. I can write tonight. "I can" is too ambitious. I want to can. I wish the can were so easy.

Another one of the things I wish I could can at this very moment is photograph. I wish my camera worked tonight. I wish everything that was ever possible and open to me was possible right now. I wish every opportunity for me to do the right thing presented itself right now: I should look you in the eye. I should say something. I should do something. I should leave the house. I should place that phone call. I should send that email. I should write that letter. I should've kissed you. I should be there with you. I should, I should, I should. I would. I will. I shouldn't be afraid, not even once, up to the very second before the second I die. In that last second, I will allow a small amount of tangible fear to flood the second before I no longer am awake.



It's this moment of beauty, the endless hours before daylight where only the photographs on my wall keep me company. The loneliest time of my life is yet to come, I've decided. I'm sure anyone could be more alone than me, now or then. or later. But for now, I can't comprehend that. I can only hope it won't choke me for too long.

Sometimes I feel that movies are more real than real life. Silly, I know, but it's sometimes only in movies where everything about a scene is noticed and recorded and utterly meaningful. What happens to the details in real life that no one sees? Are they lost forever in the vacuum of space, or are they recorded somewhere and kept as archives? It's this and other things that plague me from day to day.



I dedicate this time in my life to all those who will never read this, from the cute guy who works at the Y, to the boy i know who lives far away and far off in my mind. To everyone else that will never know me. Perhaps one day this will all mean something, perhaps there is a reason I have no reason. I have no direction, and no way to know for sure. But I lay my trust in the rush of fate.

I Am One, But I Asked For Two

I've become mind-numbingly complacent over the past couple days, and my mother is in California so I've been alone for the most part. I can't understand why I feel nothing, I do what I have to do but don't care about anything else otherwise. It sucks. At the very least, I went snowboarding with my Aussie friend in the mountains yesterday, remembered that I'm alive and why.

Sometimes I hate the past more than I love it and miss it, but I can't hate it because it's what's made me. The last two years of my life have been huge, but I'm completely positive that the next 10 will be just as crazy and lonely and full of adventure.

I miss my friends. There are many certain other things that I do not miss. And I need to move on.

Seeking Solace In Science

Tonight, I walked home 2 hours straight from the mall, in the soggy snowy streets and with the foggy sunny sky turning into moony darkness. I walked for no reason, I could've taken the bus or gotten a ride, but I mostly needed the time to think and wallow. I needed my feet to keep moving in order to keep from imploding. I stopped at Chapters and bought a book on quantum physics and another on syncronicity, and got a soy peppermint mocha. I got home, felt a bit better, burned an awesome CD (track list below) and sat down to read by the fire.

I've become quite depressed recently and sometimes it feels as if nothing will make me happy again. It feels as though there is nothing keeping me afloat except for my friends, because I know they care about me. I feel really numb most of the time. So, technically, I don't feel at all. I can only hope it will get better with time. I hope I won't continue to sink deeper.

Wallowing Playlist (good for wallowing, depression, or just enjoying being melancholy):

1. World Waits by Jeremy Enigk
2. It's In Your Blood by Lydia
3. Lovely & Blue by Ryan Adams
4. Golden Star by My Brightest Diamond
5. Crowd Surf Off A Cliff by Emily Haines & the Soft Skeleton
6. Hold On, Hold On by Neko Case
7. Summertime Feat. Billie Holiday & Louis Armstrong
8. Set The Fire To The Third Bar by Snow Patrol Feat. Martha Wainwright
9. Waltz Moore by From First To Last
10. Trouble by Coldplay
11. Slow Dancing In A Burning Room by John Mayer
12. I've Been Thinking by Handsome Boy Modeling School Feat. Cat Power
13. December (Demo) by Regina Spektor
14. You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol
15. Lines Bleed by Pony Up!
16. Airbag by Radiohead
17. Radio by The Silent Years

Guten nacht. I'm ready for a sleep. I'm ready for nothing at all.

This, I Never Knew.

I'm back from Halifax. I had a fantastic time in an old, old city, nestled next to the stormy Atlantic. Sushi, drag queens, cruise ships, late night talks with heron birds on the waterfront, drives to Sydney and back. Our road race in Cape Breton was cancelled due to weather (Sunday morning), so we went for a run anyway and called it a day. We visited Eamonn in Antigonish, and I'll never shake the feeling that I went back in time about 20 or 30 years when I went to Nova Scotia.

We saw Marie Antoinette (bad, bad, bad), ate a vegan dinner, went for a few twilit runs in the park on the point (along that ocean again), drank wine, laughed, laughed, laughed. I have a new BFF, naturally. Or not so new, just newly.. confirmed. Dalhousie University is gorgeous.

I thought a lot on this trip. I had lots of time to think, as I had connections in Toronto and Montreal, and lots of idleness. I thought about us, about me, about my future, about my friends and future endeavours. I'm tired of thinking now. I would like to stop.

And I would like to be alone for a long, long time. Not completely alone, but I don't want to date anyone for a long while. I'm happy now. Happy. Alone.

It's Officially Official:

I am backpacking Europe and the UK this spring! Tentatively from the middle of March till the middle of May. We shall see what comes of those dates for sure. Cities I am planning on visiting:
Ireland:
Dublin, Belfast

Scotland:
Glasgow, Loch Ness, Edinburgh

England/Wales:
London, Cardiff, North Wales

Spain:
Madrid, Barcelona

France:
Paris*, Nice*, Avignon*

Italy:
Florence*, Venice

Greece:
Athens

Portugal:
Lisbon

aaaaand, if possible, Switzerland and The Netherlands. And Belgium for good measure. This list will most likely expand.

I leave for Halifax on Tuesday night.

Candice, this site needs an update. If you can help me with my archives and layout (whenever you get some spare time! If ever!) I'd absolutely love it.


* denotes somewhere I've already been.

Set Fire

My boss (the coolest manager of my life) got to see the New Pornographers for free the other night because he's got friends in the band. If only. I leave for Halifax on Tuesday night, and I'm so excited by oh my god also nervous.

I have the whole weekend off! I don't know what to do with myself!

And last but not least, I think I am going to travel this coming year instead of going to school.

That is all.

Baby, You're The Only Light I Ever Saw

This past Sunday, something momentous happened.

I got some baaaaad news. And it makes me feel lost, anxious, relieved, terrified, free. How often does your quasi-boyfriend tell you he thinks he's gay? The boy you spent your whole summer with, shared awesome and sometimes perplexing memories with?

It all makes sense now. The only problem is, where does this leave me?

And better yet, how is the trip to visit him next week going to go?

Sunnyside Station

Today my heart feels sick. I feel unwanted and unmentioned, I crave a good cry and wish I could remember what to write and why. I'm missing everything all at once, so much that it is caving in on me and if feelings were bricks, I'd be crushed instantly. I can't even pinpoint what it is that I need, it's just a vague space right in the middle of my being that is screaming out in agony.

I feel unnaturally angry, although only at times, flaring and so much more painful. I wish I could feel like I was doing more in the world. I wish I had time to do more in the world.

I wish I could be so much more.

Today I was sitting in a tea house, staring straight down a long stretch of road that comes right from the foothills, thinking only of later and feeling so calm that it was almost unreal.

Today I was standing on a moving train, forming a million thoughts and ideas and concepts and plans in my head, while the afternoon sun faded into darkening clouds.

Today I remembered what I thought I had forgotten.

Today was an epiphany, and taken one step further, it would have been all of my recent dreams crashing into each other and becoming one.

But now, when today is almost tomorrow, I have forgotten everything I'd remembered. I forget those perfect ideas and almost forget how beautiful my world can be. I wish I had someone here to remind me how it was.

Cursed With

It's the afternoon I spent months ago, a year ago even, in a house where the early morning light slid across the ancient wooden floor. I burn the same incense on the same afternoon, sliding into oblivion in my cozy little bed, for I no longer wish to be conscious. I do the same activity to reach the same result, knowing I only want to pass the time. A few things are different in this place, for a year ago I couldn't watch the sun slide below the mountains any night of the week, or hear my mother move around downstairs in the kitchen. I used to enjoy my solitude, where the melancholy could sink in, and where I could let it. I miss my old house where I could be alone. I miss the quiet uncertainty of my life there, where my life was entirely up to me and I allowed my time to go to waste.

I still love this time of year, it's so completely me that I should walk out and sink into the fallen leaves and never return. I wish I could disappear so easily.

And tonight, while I lay in bed, listening to the clock ticking and wishing I could sleep, I will hope for the rest of this month to pass as quickly as possible. It feels like my life is on hold now. I'm so far, in time and in space, from all I hold dear. Everything that I fear will go away in just a matter of time, whether I want it to or not.

Well, This Is IT

Welp, guys, tomorrow I start my brand new job. I am now going to be a full time retail worker, paid to work in retail full time. Full time? FULL TIME. It kind of sounds like I'm devoting my whole life to it. Am I? I think so, probably, yes.

Also, this is a new thing sort of, not really, but I may very well be heading to Halifax in about a month, because, because, there is a certain person there that I really miss and would like to see, Thus, Halifax. Halimafaxination.

Otherwise, this weekend has been way too sunny for my liking, and I am sooo Ikea'd out. No more Ikea, please, not for a while.

And don't forget, my photoblog is still alive and kicking and freshly updated too. So check'r, okay?

Ungh.

I woke up this morning almost ready to face the day. For some reason, everything seems harder and more sentimental on this grey Calgary morning, where I feel most alone. There are a few things keeping me afloat: the package receipt pinned to my bulletin board from yesterday, the pictures on my wall, the coffee I just drank. The rest of my fate rests on my shoulders today, dependent on whether or not I can leave the house. Part of me wants to collapse on my bed and sob for a while.

Sleep doesn't come easily anymore. I don't know what I'm worrying about or why I can't stop tossing and turning. It's all on me now.

And my heart is fit to burst.

Check It, Check It OUUUUTTTT

My photoblog is officially now updated!

http://renataphotographs.blogspot.com

Feel free to comment- and I'll be putting more up soon!

This Is The Last Night Of The Rest Of Your Life

Photograph courtesy The Lifetime Collective sans permission.

There is a sound I can hear from here, it's a sound like the wind blowing a million leaves and blades of grass and into buildings and across roads. I can hear the snow on the mountains half an hour from me, the moody Rocky Mountains, who became snow-covered and intimidating yesterday with the drop in temperature and rise in precipitation. Yesterday, after a lunch at the unbelievable Fairmont Banff Springs and the purchase of a new coat (see below) from Creme featuring the lifetime collective clothing line.

The Palms.

This is a million hours in the making, every moment I wish I'd had and everything in between. I can run for hours and hours and not get tired, listening to the Blood Brothers and getting anger out with every step. It's a cold night in Calgary, Alberta, and soon I'll be cozy in my bed. I'm just tired of thinking about life and am prepared to start living it. I'm the opposite of weepy and nostalgic this time. I'm ready again for public transportation, human interaction, being cold and watching people. Goodbye direction.

You'll Never See A Finer Ship

This was the lull I'd longed for. A full week of intensity, or rather, a full summer of intensity. I'm finally moved, finally inked (again), finally 20 (egh, egh, egh), and now it's being alone and finding a job and becoming immersed in music, because there is nothing else for me to do but to dream of dying again. Last night I was building my new Ikea furniture and listening to American Analog Set, and realizing I know no one in this city and that everyone who will ever love me is far away, and perhaps gone forever. I'm being dramatic, I know this, but I have every right. I just couldn't breathe.

Now this morning is the ultimate type, rainy and dark and perfect. After a whole week of sunshine, this city is matching my mood. Jacob and I drove across the country this week, 3380 kilometres, to my new home and my new life. He left yesterday on a plane, while I stayed here. I am staying here in my new life, until I figure out something better for myself.

I'm 20 years old now. I'm a twenty-something. I don't like it. I'm alone, and although on a new adventure, it's leaving me in such a precarious position.

This is it, though. This is where I must rise to my challenges and move on into brightness, for there is no more for me here than that, nothing but wide open opportunity. I still miss you all, for I'm away from you all again, all of you.

In the next couple days I'll be posting on my photoblog again, photos from this past week. Check it out at http://renataphotographs.blogspot.com.

This week, I'm listening to:
Emily Haines - Knives Don't Have Your Back
Grizzly Bear - Yellow House
Alexisonfire - Crisis
Interpol - Antics
American Analog Set

Not Worth The Worry

This morning, everything in my house was moved onto a truck and carted away. You'd think that such a thing would be sad, but in my mind, it's progress. I'm already thinking Calgary. Part of me is already in the west, ready to start a new chapter in my life and write more cliched analogies. Since being back from camp, I've seen and talked to so many of my new and old friends it seems almost ridiculous. But it's not ridiculous at all, oh no, it's wonderful because I miss all of them and wish I weren't leaving them behind. Leaving them behind?

Am I afraid to move to a new city, where I know no one?

Truthfully, I'm mostly not thinking about it except for vague plans like getting a job and training for a marathon. I'm sure that once I get there, and once I get settled, I'll miss here so absolutelyfreakingmuch. It's all a part of this, though. I accept the risks, and I am so ready for the highs and the lows that I'll experience.

The only thing left here now is me, and once my parents fly out on Saturday morning, I'll no longer have a home in Orangeville. I won't have a home in the only place I've really ever known. One week short of my 20th birthday and I am uprooted and flailing. I am worried that I'll forget to say goodbye to someone or something. Is everything I love here imprinted in my mind, ready to bring back to memory if I need it? Have I fully absorbed every bit of this?

Of course. I've lived here for the last 20 years of my life.

And as for him, as for him... I really don't know. The only thing I know is that I hold him in high esteem and I don't want to let him go. Not completely, not yet, not ever? I just wish he'd let me know where he is, how he is, and if he ever thinks of me.

That is all.

Everything's Not Lost

The weather is already cooling, and camp is turning into a dream. I find lately that I prefer my camp friends over my old friends, not for any real reason other than the fact that I just spent the last 9 weeks of my life with the same people, the people that know me now, and know the real me. We have a whole summer in common, a summer that tried our patience, left us perpetually exhausted, and thrilled us. We revel in the memories of that time, and the memories of each other, and wish we were together again. Camp allowed us to leave our external worries until the end of the summer, and allowed us to leave the real world behind for a while.

The thing I'm really struggling with lately is not loneliness, as I'd feared, but rather balancing those summer relationships with current life. I forget how far away everyone is, and when I remember, it's like a punch in the chest. I don't know when I'll see most of them again, and it's even harder when I know I'll be moving even further away. I still dream of them. I still dream of the breeze at camp, off the lake.

I'm listening to Coldplay's Parachutes tonight, and it reminds me of the fall of Grade 11, when I first starting listening to this album obsessively. Before they were lame and the next big thing. It's the cool weather and the sweaters, and reminds me of high school and cross country team practice. And chocolate Vector bars, which used to eat on the 20 minute walk to school as breakfast.
The one thing that this cool weather makes me wish?

That I was going back to school. Moving into my new place with my roommate, preparing for classes, partying before the real work begins. Can't have one without the other, and that realization helps me understand the full brunt of my decision to leave school for a year.


UP NEXT:
Why My Camera Deserves To Burn In Hell.

You Could Be Happy

I've been home for 12 hours now- listening to the same 11 songs on speakers I've set up in the bathroom, eating 1% cottage cheese out of the container BECAUSE I CAN, and lying on the floor sobbing my eyes out. I made Winter White Earl Grey tea with soy milk, got a phone call from Texas, and am trying to get used to being back home.

I can't cry now because I've put makeup on, even though I barely wore makeup all summer. My hair never got flatironed and very rarely blowdried, and I didn't even wear sunscreen all summer (gasp!).

My house is filled with packed or half-packed boxes, and all the art is off the walls. Mum is making reservations to ship our cats in a plane, and I am going to start mapping my driving route from Orangeville, Ontario to Calgary, Alberta.

Saying goodbye in a parking lot is always slightly romantic, but all I could say to him was "this isn't goodbye, this isn't goodbye". The lights were bright at this particular gas station, and of course I couldn't cry- I saved my tears for when I got to be alone. I haven't been alone in the last 9 weeks- how am I going to handle it now?

My bed seemed too big when I crawled into it last night, and all my dreams were of my camp people, crazy dreams that didn't allow me to remember where I would be waking up:

Home.

I Am Here.

Starrucca, Pennsylvania.

Working at a summer camp. I am tanned, I am buff, and I am happily exhausted.

I miss y'alls. (and have gained a strange accent from being around Texans and Oklahomans and other assorted international voices).

But I love here.

A Spinning Top

There is a place I go near my house where I can sit and feel the world breathe in and out. I go here at night, while walking my dog, and listen to my ipod. And I take a break from the purgatory that is my daily life. I hate waiting more than I hate
"president" bush (and that's a lot), and it's been all I've been doing lately. My house is thisclose to being sold, and if it is, we will be moved out by September first.

I sit in my place, which is at the top of a steep hill on my old high school's soccer field, and look at the life moving within my line of sight. Usually it's a few cars, late at night, and the breeze on my face. It's streetlights and traffic lights and the sky, which is, as expected, dark and expansive, oftentimes filled with stars obscured by light of the town. I sit here and ponder, and I'm truly alone, so much that I can feel it surrounding me like water.

Tonight, as such nights allow, I listened to nostalgic songs from last summer. It made me feel complicated and sad and hollow and wonderful and hopeful and unattached. It reminded me how quickly things can change, and have changed, and how I hate missing more than I hate waiting, which is a lot.

Tonight, I could see time rush by, till I could see the fall, a new neighbourhood with a new place to sit. I only hope that there, I won't feel my hollowness as much, and I hope I'll be able to forget the sadness and move on in my life. Because there is nothing I hate more than regret. I hate regret more than I hate missing or waiting or president bush. and those are a lot.

Down and out, guys. I am down and out.



Next up: Why I Am An Escapist.

Wrong At The Worst Of Times.

Emotional highs really are a curse. Perhaps I need the other kind of high, the kind that comes from breathing in and holding. Emotional highs make me think I'm really all right, that everything in my sphere is working seamlessly, and nothing will ever be wrong again.

I was wrong when I thought that.

This morning a For Sale sign went up on my lawn. It's a relief, it is, because it means that hopefully soon we will be able to make our plans for the move. But it's the end of an era. It's the end of my life here, although not completely so, because wherever there are things I love, I will be there in spirit. The things I love about Orangeville are many, and right now the thing I love the most is the breeze from the backyard, with it's Ontario lush-feeling, farmer's fields and the smell of hay on a bright and beautiful sunny day. I'll miss the trees here.

It is just one of those days. Stay tuned for more Ontario nostalgia, coming at you from Orangeville, Ontario.

And I leave for camp next week.

Jesus H. JAMBA JUICE!

Just a litte update. J actually was pretty "sweet like that", it took him less than 24 hours to call me back. Then I saw him, and it was awesome, and I feel awesome now. And other things happened that were a little less than awesome, like telling him that I'm moving (and I got the "unpleasant surprise" face with that), but otherwise, it was pretty darn lovely. Oh, J. Juicy Jalopy Jamming Jauntily. Jemima.

And I got some new clothes and a new pair of sunglasses, both of which I don't need at all, and spent some quality time with (as Candice puts it) my marmela.

Orangeville is still lame, and I believe Jess will agree with me on that one. Mary, you suck because we didn't hang out this weekend. Sarah, you suck because you're not home yet. Everyone else, you suck because you're not in Orangeville enjoying the lame-osity of it with us. I'm just bitter.

Back In Eastern Standard Time (DST)

The jet-lag is causing me insomnia, but boy oh boy is it nice to be back in rainy Ontario! I bet my tan is going to fade QUICKLY, quickly and wonderfully, until I am back to my pale, unhappy self. I called J, who according to his machine message would call me back as soon as possible because he's "sweet like that". J, you are totally not "sweet like that". I'm being honest here. Maybe you should consider that, too. Maybe you should be honest and just say "You've reached J! I've obviously missed your call, so I will call you back when I feel like it, be it 2 hours, 2 weeks, or hell, even 2 years, cause I'm sweet like that".

I guess he doesn't know I'll be leaving the country again in 3 weeks (for 2 months), or that I'm leaving the province for good at the end of the summer. I haven't mentioned those little niggles to him yet. I would rather not go through this again. I don't like being in limbo, it only makes me angry and violent and throw things until I get what I want, or what I need. And believe me, I have good aim. I'd like to see him. It is that simple. When I see him, I will be able to decipher my feelings, sort through them, and toss all the useless feelings into the garbage (where they belong!).

Otherwise, home is pretty good. Mum missed me, and Lionel misses me, and California cried the morning I left. Orangeville is still pretty lame (oh, suburbs. I hate that you define my existence), and we're putting our house up for sale in 2 weeks purely because Orangeville is lame. Oh, and did I mention that Orangeville is lame?

Tonight there was a spider in my room. Thank god for my cat Rosie (she who ensures I'll never be alone, or lonely, while she's with me) who likes to eat spiders like people eat candy. So the spider is now well-eaten and in Rosie's stomach, and I love her for it, lest a spider end up in my ear/hair/nose/esophagus tomorrow morning.

Rosie likes to flirt with a handsome black tomcat that comes around sometimes, until I tell her he's not good enough for her, and then she grudgingly gives up.

I love that cat.

Lines Bleed.

Put my best foot forward, knees buckle and hurt. Now it's official, and I don't know how. I think I'm too small now- to look you in the eye. Walk a tightrope on my way home, keep looking over to fall over, and I know everything's my fault. Stay here until I'm finally caught, wait and see... Who will get here first? Why is everyone so rehearsed? Tell me why the only lines I like bleed, and I'll meet you at the bottom- along the coral reef. If you left on a Saturday, I swear I'll never forgive you. Don't leave me here. But if you leave on a Wednesday...
Put my best foot forward...
-Lines Bleed by Pony Up!

I only wish I knew what I wanted. I wish I knew what I could have. That sorrow fills me up again, and I can't remember why I breathe. I hang in limbo so I can forget to feel, pretending life is good without my heart (and even better, without you). I'd love to get away from my blue, J, but you never let me. Without even knowing, you've unpeeled me, and it scares me to death that you can see me from the inside out.

Trees, Trees, Trees.

Driving along the freeway from Dublin, driving through Crow Canyon in the rain. This weekend it's Muir Woods and Berkeley. The sunset falling below the coastal fog and my face in the breeze, the eucalyptus along the 680.

Walked among the redwoods, trod along the Golden Gate Bridge. Hairpin turns and switchbacks, beautiful earthy boys running steep trails, the downtown San Francisco's Pacific Heights. Multi-million-dollar homes. The place movies are made.

I'm exhausted. And I hate my stupid-ass face.

PICTURES!

that's me among the trees, I seem so lost.

This Is The Way Things Are.

dear whoever rules the universe:

thank you for allowing my brain to go on vacation, for the first time since I can remember. not only is my body relaxing in the California sunshine, but my mind is taking a break as well.

Lionel's apartment complex houses many interesting creatures, such as the large black woman who softly sing-songs "Lionel!" as she walks past the screen door. The young man who teaches himself karate from a book in the courtyard during daylight hours, and reads in the cafe across the street at night.

The pool is lit up in the evenings, beckoning, even though there's a sign that says "No Pool Use After Dark". What, then, is the sense of having the pool lit at all? So offenders can be caught?

I go for walks in the afternoons, where i can smell every kind of blossom and rose bloom, citrus trees and the Santa Ana winds from the desert. Palm trees and hemlocks. I sun in the courtyard, and now that the pool is open, I'll be swimming. After that, I'll head to Starbucks and get a Grande Iced Green Tea Latte With Soy. And then maybe I'll head to the Mexican Phone Company (Taco Bell) to get some cheap eats. But only because I'm here.

I stay up late. I think about hardly anything, and I am so grateful for this.

Streaming Stream, Life's Dream.

We are here face to face not only with pain as a condition of redemption, but rather with absolute beauty as one of its consequences.


californians can be quite a nice bunch. the air here is heavy, yet the heat is dry and the sun pours down, clouds in the sky or not. consumerism is rampant, yet normal people are all over the place. i might be beautiful here. love can happen. i only need half of what i have, i don't need anyone else and i'm getting more comfortable, in my own skin and all over the world. music is what i need. my life has been focused on independence- now it's about change, i'm changing now, and that is how i no longer need you. i need stream-of-consciousness, eye contact, and for any sincere moment. ahead of me is fire, hope, and an egg. helping and distracting are hoping for changing. fountains, gates of freedom and living with my eyes wide open.

sirens for the inevitable, the sky stretches out towards the ocean. the sky falls no more softly when the world ends as any other time. living is easy with eyes closed. stains and scars i can't explain, hoping that my mother will be able to finally realize herself and realize that she doesn't have to live in fear. fear is wasted energy. fear is nothing to be proud of. pride is vain, pride ruins people, and pride makes insecurity valiant. vanity is poetry and never allows for inadequacy.
this body is my vessel, my temple, and the reason i can survive. this face can be a curse, for it can make me assume i am being treated fairly, when in reality, fair is as negotiable as cost. cost is weighed heavily. what is the cost? why must money be a deciding factor?

no one person is better than anyone else. being a white girl does have it's advantages, but it also can make me stand out in ways that make me vastly uncomfortable. because i am a white girl, i am accepted most everywhere, but it disallows anonymity. trying even halfway gets me noticed in ways i'd rather not be. next time, i will allow my hair to do as it pleases. i don't want to be done. i am so glad for my freedoms, i am so glad i have what i have and that i am constantly changing. to be the same forever is worse than a death sentence. change is constant. fire is welcoming this time, i'd walk into the fire without as much as a glance backwards. i already have. but i will not burn, and i haven't.

today i heard my name at the drugstore. there were two little girls standing behind me as i marveled at the selection of chocolate and chocolate-related items, and one called the other one Renata, i'm so sure, and it was startling because i was meant to be there then, out of all the moments in these girls' lives. i was there then.
i am in that place i'd always dreamed of. i am here, i am here, and everything goes my way because that's how i expect it to. it's turned into a camera lens and careful days.

i step carefully every inch i go, i accept and move on and wish i could live without attachment. you are the favourite of my dreams. my every dream boy, you live in my alternate world and it is there that we are together. we begin the odyssey. we live in the foothills, we walk along the boardwalks and the beaches. we swim with our lungs full of air, floating in the sea of love, floating like we'll never forget. floating as we walk the streets of the whole world, the small town of our past colouring every new adventure. i'm only like this with you because i'm far away, and it is easier to dream here without you. i'm in love without knowing. i keep everyone at arm's reach, it is easier to live that way, it is easier to fall. it keeps the knot in my stomach alive. it keeps me awake and cold.


living is a dream

Hrmm.

I just hope that my plane doesn't crash while flying over the Midwestern United States, LOST style. Surviving out there would sure be a bitch!

Probably worse than the Bermuda Triangle.


I suppose I will start packing now.

Loved, Lost, Losing, Lying, Loving, Crying.

This week is blowing me away. It's funny how the more you let go and the more you try to forget, the more surprising things can be. The cast of characters in my life have proven to be recurring ones, much to my astonishment, and now I know that we'll see where this can go.

I missed him so much. I missed him so much that I had to let go before my love for him rotted me inside. I let go. I still dreamt about it, but I let go.

And then? Just when I least expected it. Now it's flowers. Now it's something that we can maybe patch up, maybe we can forget what we saw in each other that was nothing but disappointment. Maybe we can be us again. Maybe we can be the unstoppable.

Maybe it'll never be the same. But for this, I am prepared. I won't let all the walls down, but I'll try to not be so cold. All I know is disappointment, so if there is something other than that, my life turns to nothing but roses.

And yes, I do believe I'll call you when I get back.

Blue & Orange.

I've been ripping holes in all my pairs of jeans. I've been dressing like I've been left on a desert island for weeks. I've been braiding my hair and decorating myself with warpaint. My mind has gone on vacation. I've been obesessed with the show LOST. I've watched 20 episodes in 5 days.

My week has been one of relaxation. The seemingly never-ending trauma week that was exams, funerals, moving, and retribution is OVER. I've been eating ice cream, doing laundry, assembling furniture, and making peace with myself and my circumstances. Even being in Orangeville isn't ruining me yet.

I haven't even begun to prepare for my trip to San Francisco- a place I'm hoping will continue to allow me to move on. I know it will never completely stop affecting me, I just hope I can stop dreaming about it. I leave Thursday morning. Will two weeks be enough? The last thing I want to admit is that all I want is to be with you. It's the truth, but you'd have to twist my arm and force-feed me foie gras before I'd ever tell you.

Yesterday I got my US work visa in the mail. As of June 15th, I will be a legal alien in the United States of America. Has a nice ring to it, no? It's still one of the most random things that has ever happened to me. Among a LOT of random things. Whatever- I can go with the flow.

The kettle still works, despite being thrown across the room and smashed by a frying pan. This means I can still have my daily Earl Grey. Hot, not cold.

And since this entry has been the most LiveJournal yet (barf), I'll add that this Tuesday is the season finale of Veronica Mars (my absolute favourite television show for those of you who aren't familiar) and I will probably have a heart attack while watching it. Just a head's up.

I am continually exhausted.

The Funeral.

Without death, life would be meaningless. It is what makes life so fantastic, so precious, because death can come at any time. Any moment could theoretically be one's last. What I am leading to with all of this drivel is the fact that I dealt with death this week. I did not look death in the face, but merely basked in it's dark light. My 83 year-old grandfather died suddenly last Thursday morning, at the tail end of a glorious week, with nothing but joy in his heart, I'm sure. My grandfather suffered from Alzheimer's, a devastating degenerative disease that affects the brain. The second last time I saw my grandfather, it was the middle of last summer and he did not recognize me. The very last time I saw him, it was July 8th, and he commented on how I'd changed my hair. I think I hugged him goodbye. And although I said goodbye that day, I wasn't aware that it would be the last time.

The guilt I suffer now is crushing me with it's weight. I could have visited him more. I could have had a last goodbye. I could have enriched his life, no matter how minutely, and made him a little extra happy for a little longer. He liked to talk. Near the end, he didn't really have anyone to listen. He may have repeated his stories, and tired those around him, but any bit of patience would have made him happy. I have taken my time to mourn his loss this week, but truthfully, he was gone long ago. The real essence that was my grandfather slowly disappeared over the last couple of years, and although bits and pieces of him remained in his strong body, he was no longer the man I knew. In a way, I'm glad I didn't see him at his worst.

The viewing and funeral, Sunday and Monday, were made worse by the fact that my family is feuding. My mother doesn't talk to her siblings at the moment, except through lawyers. The past few years have been ruinous in the monetary scheme of things, mainly concerning my grandfather's money and who is doing what with it. He gave up control of his accounts a few years ago when it was decidedly silly for him to continue running things. His Alzheimer's got worse. My mother and her siblings took control, and that's where things get fuzzy. The main thing is that they quite detest each other now.

I, of course, am stuck in purgatory.

I am fiercely loyal to my mom, but at first it seemed extremely hard to put the relationships with my aunts, uncles, and cousins on hold. Then I saw them again. Their behaviour was primarily childish, disappointing, and fundamentally shameful. They seem to have regressed back to childhood. They treated me as if I was invisible, smelly, and astonishing all at once. This behaviour suddenly made it much easier to think about life without them.

Needless to say, it was a tiring couple of days. During the funeral service, I was almost shaking with rage. That the family my grandfather had created could not put their differences aside and unite in their grief sickened me to the core. His life could barely be celebrated while his progeny was busy hating each other's guts. It is love we needed to share, not hate. I only hope that, with time, my aunts and uncles will realize what they have thrown away. They have severed ties with their blood, people who would love them given the chance, and have maybe forever lost something incredibly important. And why? Money. A common reason these days.

When did it become okay to choose money? When did money become more important than anything else in life?

What I Hate The Most.

If I am alive this time next year,
will I have arrived in time to share?
Mine is about as good this far.
I'm still applied to what you are.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.


I do refuse to spam my blog with sappy stupid song lyrics, but unfortunately Sufjan Stevens is sitting in my psyche and won't leave until I express some of my pain anti-joy. Maybe we just need the ones we love to love us back just as much. If ______ loved me like I love him we'd be together, no questions asked. But it's because we're not and it's because he's so elusive that I like him so much. If I had him, I don't think I'd feel so strongly. What if I had him and I wished he were someone else? It would be ruinous, and devastating, and heart-breaking. I wish I didn't dream about him all the time, I wish I could end this feverish state.

For now, though, my only plan of action is to be as elusive as he, be as elusive as I can, so that he will miss me and miss everything that is me.

Anyway, although I'd love to write something else, I find it's just about impossible. I like to have a theme with my entries, because it's the easiest for me to categorize.

I wish I hadn't seen you drive past me tonight. I wish I had ignored the fact that it was you, and I wish I hadn't walked every street with my headphones off in an attempt to a) see your car and b) hear the sound of thrashing guitars to lead me to you. I wish I wasn't here, and that I hadn't known you were jamming tonight. I wish your band didn't practice in my neighbourhood. It would be so much easier to ignore you that way. It would be so much easier to ignore you if I was far away, far away from all the pain you cause my heart.

I'm sorry if I've Renata'd you out.

Please come to me one day, and not only in my dreams. Come to me with love, with all the love you have in your heart, and make it mine. Give it to me with the earnest sincerity about you that I hold so dear. Please don't lie to me. I'm going to stop now. I hope you come around.

Wake Up.

I'd like to say that there could be nothing more than this, my blue screen life and one-meal days. Want to sit out in the sunshine?

Contemplating how I still can't have you and how nothing has changed. I don't know what you are to me, half-closed eyes and falling asleep holding hands, waving goodbye.

Last night was my last night of the school year to drink and be merry with my most favourite people. The pattern continued, a pattern that started at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve, something that was sure to shape the course of my year. And so far, it has proven to do exactly that. However, patterns break, patterns falter. I'm sure this one will be no different.

This day is one I'd wish to spend outdoors, the April breeze on my tired face and the farmer's tan I collected yesterday evened out, so that I can wear sleeveless shirts again. Sometimes I am reminded of things that happened at this time, years ago, like when I find the CD my boyfriend made for me in Grade 11, to listen to on our way to prom. The songs from that CD remind me of that summer.

And I've been writing this for hours now. Time to send off.

This Is My Syntax.

The ones I liked the most, I couldn't keep. I live my life expecting minimal things- from others, that is. I assume that if it's happened once, it will never happen again, and if it does, it is completely unexpected. I remember moments forever. Sometimes I remember them too well, for too long, until I'm sick inside with longing and the feeling of intense inadequacy. I am often a hater. And for that hate, I wish that all I had was love, I wish hate wouldn't consume me and turn me inside out. If I could go back to every lovely and wonderful moment in my life and live them again, over and over until every last ounce of disappointment and the almost-regret were gone.. If I could only make things the way they were before.

Never have I felt such raw emotion. It must be this time in my life- and I'm sure it's just the beginning. All of the sorrow my heart can hold fills me up now- the more things I try to fill up on, the less I feel, and the more I understand. The less I think, the less I sleep- trying just brings more. I can't sleep anymore for the worry, the wondering, the planning and the hoping. I need to be the most authentic. I never want to pretend, or to bend, I want to be me and no one else. I want to grasp the concepts of life- the living breathing dying moments everyone shares.

I hope everyone's eyes are open, I hope they see the world instead of needing to block it out. I need to believe that everything happens for a reason, and that the people I love will never spiral into a big black hole and give up on life. Because there is so much to see. There is so much to look forward to. I hope to always be the bigger person, even though I hate them for taking what I love away from me.

Cat-Lapped.

Again, a jazzy morning with my black cat and black coffee. It's raining. I recently discovered that I have been having an anxiety attack for the last week- I haven't been able to sleep or really enjoy life, I've just been worrying about my future and current problems. I am at my mother's house for a while. The best thing about this place is my animals (and the food). My cat Chloe is essentially attached to me at the lap, every time I sit down, she must be on it. Like right now. And last night. It is so comforting to have a warm little vessel keeping me company at all hours of the night, as my eyes glaze over from the glow of the computer screen, and my face starts twitching from lack of sleep. She has a kind heart. I need a kind heart during days like these.

I'm pretty sure I won't be able to return to my university next year. I'm pretty sure that I'm 19, and having a mid-life crisis. The future freaks me out. Will I have a good job? Will I meet someone? Will I be fulfilled? Sometimes it seems to be a bleak and empty road. It's hard to not push myself, to not stress over what I cannot control. And it's hard to make everything sincere.

During days like these, my absolute favourite thing is to take my dog for a walk at twilight, the spring breeze on my face. Even though my suburban neighbourhood is comparable to a hell with sidewalks, where the neighbours walk around at 8 on a Tuesday night with Budweisers in their hands and their kids left to wither away, the trails nearby are still tolerable. My dog can get her fill of pond-smells and muck, and I can take a deep breath.

During days like these, I can finally take a break without feeling guilty. I can watch movies, television, and read real books without feeling guilty. I can take a step back. I can assess.

During days like these, I have too much time to think. I have too much time to worry. I have too much time alone, and far away.

Look Me In The Eye

They say dark moments only happen in dark times in life. Rarely. It is hard to be darkly optimistic, the two just don't happen frequently at the same time. Am I the only one who experiences dark moments even when things are going reasonably well? I'm sure I am not. I'm sure everyone has their fucked-up moments. I am having one of those right now. I am sitting at home alone, drinking gin and juice and feeling sorry for myself. It's Friday night, the week that classes are over, and everyone is partying. I am sitting at home doing laundry and writing a blog. This is a dark moment- I am thinking, and I am not being normal. I enjoy partying. I am not often anti-social. And reader, I apologize if my entry goes downhill. I am getting more tipsy by the second.

I am listening to Tegan & Sara. Getting emo. Thinking too much. Thinking about everything I've lost, everything I've ever wanted. Everything I have.

And I just broke a glass. I should stop writing. I think my roommate, who had just been at a kegger, was less drunk than me.

Who'd have thunk?

I hate the word thunk.

Grown Up.

This week, all my bills are paid up and the dishes are washed. Our utilities are cancelled for the end of the month, and there is no more rent to pay. Homework is done, essays are finished, and my next month is planned out. I ate horrible, stale Mr. Noodles this afternoon, and decided that I have finally done the Student Experience. I'm ready to go home for a while. I'm ready to have groceries provided for me and to have a dog to walk again. I'm ready for a real couch and a 27 inch TV. I'm ready for a water cooler and large glasses. I'm ready for material comforts and no more stress of bills, essays, or What Am I Going To Eat This Week? (starring peanut butter and frozen bread).

I am ready to move out. I am ready to pack my things and head back to where I came from.

But when all is said and done, I can't say I won't miss it here. I know I will. Living in this house has been the turning point in my life. I have gone from High School Student, to First Year University Student (living in residence), to Second Year University Student (living on her own!). I have cooked for myself, budgeted myself, done my own laundry, cleaned my own living room, scrubbed my own toilet. All of those things are what dreams are made of! Domestic bliss. Domestic, studenty bliss.

I have one and a half more assignments to do for the year. I have 4 exams, but basically have the next month off. The next 4 or 5 months off. And, depending on how my marks are this year, I may have the next year and a half off. Which is frightening, and really deserves it's own story.

Next up: Why I Might Fail University (This Year).

Take All You Can Find In Me

I can't listen to music while I try to write down what is going on in my brain. I get lyrics and rhythms in my head, I get the feelings of other people in the space where mine usually are. Instead of writing how I really feel, I'll start spouting lyrics from The Smiths, Radiohead, The Shins. Whatever I'm listening to. Although sometimes, it would be nice to live life with a soundtrack. I hate silence. I sometimes enjoy silence while I'm asleep, or perhaps..

No. That's it. I only like silence when I'm asleep. What a realization. I think of it almost as a curse. I can barely enjoy silence for what it is anymore. Silence here means that I can still hear cars drive by, my roommates walking or talking or breathing. I can still hear creaks in the house, and wonder if the mouse is back to eat my chocolate. I can hear doors slamming, sirens, car horns. Sometimes yelling. My silence here is the music of the city.

It's unfortunate that our culture has become one of seclusion. Going out in public no longer means interacting with the general public- for today's hipsters, it's yet another time to squish in or slip on the headphones and shut out the world. I am guilty of this. I can't say I don't enjoy it. I just wish it weren't so easy to retreat into ourselves so often.

One last thing for tonight: TV shows and their ending scenes, complete with heartbreaking music, make me reconsider my decision to cut myself off from feeling. For a few minutes, at least, and only because they remind me that I once had a heart beating somewhere inside my chest. That, of course, has been lovingly discarded, and I am now the proud owner of a hollow soul.

This Is All New.

Thanks to Candice, I now have a lovely new layout! And I am hosted on her site, Suburb-Queen.com.

Dreams do come true!

Alone In Kyoto

It is the weekend close to the end. I am so close to the end that I can almost taste it, dream it, feel it. I can imagine my assignments and essays done. I can imagine the April rain on my face, sliding deliciously down my throat, my toes squishing in whatever lies beneath my feet. I can't even decide which season is my favourite.
If I love spring so much, I really should be outside doing things instead of laying in bed, eating too much, listening to my top 52 melancholy songs playlist, and wasting my precious, precious time. There is nothing time can't heal. I just wish it would work faster.
When the sun comes out again, you'll find me here:
Sitting on the threshold of the door to nowhere, taking pictures with my manual focus Konica.

But I digress.

I can't unwant him. I wish I could press the Undo button. I don't want my heart anymore, either. For sale: My Heart. Free, or best offer. Any takers?

I Wrote This Last Night, But

I'm not sure if it is pertinent anymore. You know how things seem to fade after a good night's sleep? This is one of those.



I am disliking things. Lots of things. Things like my chubby thighs, my inability to sleep, my contacts burning my eyes, boys who have drifted away quietly but very, very quickly, my past mistakes. I don't regret. I only wish I had thought things through a little better at the moment, any moment, the moments that define my existence. It's really the different medium that is allowing me to share my thoughts so freely, restrictive as livejournal is. Livejournal made me censor myself, afraid to show how I really felt, disallowing myself to speak more than half truths. Only for the pure reason that every entry I wrote showed up on someone's Friends page, and people that I didn't necessarily wish to read my private thoughts had full access.

RENATA'S LIFE ALL-ACCESS
Just like a MuchMusic special. Call me Ashlee!

For now, though, screaming music does me just fine, and once I get these circular discs of plastic off my eyeballs, I will be a much more content person. This doesn't mean I will stop picking at blackheads on my face, no sir, because that is one thing in life that gives me great pleasure. Much like the warm caress of another or a bite of sinfully dark chocolate.

Seriously. I do like the warm caress of another, sometimes. I won't deny it. But often it leads to posts starting with the words "I am disliking things", AND WE DON'T WANT THAT ANYMORE, DO WE?!

And honestly? I think I'd like to stop having fucked-up dreams. Maybe. Or are they providing my obviously insane subconscious mind a release? I'll get back to y'all on that one. Now, it is goodnight. Once I can get my goddamn wireless internet to connect, and can actually publish this post. ANGRY FACE!

Red Wine

My life can be defined in nights, wine, and cold mornings. It's never semi-dramatic. It's either not dramatic at all, or a full-out soap opera. Except no one dies and comes back saying they're someone's long lost twin sister. Although that would be pretty cool! But no. No. It's defined in years of crushing and lusting after one person, and then almost getting that person but not.
GETTING. I don't even know what that means anymore.
Staying up all night, slowdancing to hardcore in our underwear. Making breakfast at 7am after watching the sunrise, pillow talk, and me realizing that there is NO WAY that I don't like this boy. He's my constant, my never-ending need, and sometimes I just breathe him in, because that is the only way I'll ever have him. I can go weeks without seeing him or really even talking to him, but give me a glass of wine and put us behind closed doors, and it's all us from there on in. I see him and realize I miss him. I get jealous easily, and I know that I can't keep him, or else I will get hurt. Endless real-journal entries are about him, about us, and he'll probably always be in my psyche. Whether I want him there or not.
Call me a whiner. Do it. Call me a hopeless romantic. Call me a fool.
I am all of the above.
My life is defined in endless afternoons. It's defined in emails, laundry, and pots of coffee. It's the sun dipping below the horizon, the air warming to spring, and the mud squishing between the toes of giants.
It's defined by you.
Most of all, it is defined in photographs and written words. It is the pen on the paper, my semi-cursive tracing across the page and lyrics written on my leg in marker. It is my life here. It is my life alone.

It's like the empty bottle of red wine on my coffee table.

Roll Up The Rim To Not Win!

In a frenzy of coffee/hot chocolate/tea buying, consumers often forget that the coffee/hot chocolate/tea they are buying is actually low quality shit-water in a paper cup. Seriously. My university campus has one form of coffee shop, and us students are forced to purchase our hot drinks there, or else perish. Usually I choose perish, except for those days when I have a spare dollar or two and cannot go another second living without a Large Earl Grey Tea.

Usually.

But then comes the time of year where the entirety of Canada is consumed with the feverish obsession that is Roll Up The Rim (To WIN!). Once in a while someone will win a free coffee, or a free doughnut, and God Almighty, isn't THAT just the greatest thing since hot dog vendors? Even though you've bought 23 hot beverages, you've only won once. Or twice, if you're EXTRA lucky. It's exactly like the lottery. But worse, and possibly less healthy. And the worst thing? I can't resist it either. For example, today I was about to order my usual miniature-sized hot chocolate, you know, to nourish my brain (I am learning! I require nutrients!), and realized that ROLL UP THE RIM DOES NOT OCCUR IN SMALL-SIZED CUPS. I was forced by my suspended disbelief that I might actually win this time to buy a medium instead. It was horrible and sweet and I rolled up the rim and I did not win!

That's it. I give up the 'Ho forever.

Except for maybe those Boston Cream doughnuts.

And the occasional Old Fashioned Glazed.

Welcome To Blogworld

Today, for some mysterious reason, (in fact it may have come with drinking a coffee, I'll never know) I am the victim of pure, unadulterated bliss. Even taking pictures of my (rather curvy) buttocks in the mirror has not minimized the horrible joy I am feeling.

Who would have thought that I got my wallet stolen yesterday?

Because I forgot to return my roommate's movie to the movie store when I said I would, I had to pay $12 in late fees so that she will never find out what an awful, unreliable person I really am. That left me with $70 in my bank account. Then I went and bought the new JANE magazine, cause you know, I'm down on my luck and really needed something to cheer me up. And then I bought a coffee. And a cookie. But really, I'm looking forward to spending the next couple weeks in a feverish state of non-eat, non-sleep, utterly and completely dominated by my (over)due assignments and the fact that I won't even be able to afford ramen noodles (that's Mr. Noodles to you guys!). And no, I will NOT be going out for cheap beer tonight, because I can't even afford the cheap anymore. Last time I said that, I ended up sleeping through my Thursday morning Geomorphology lab and wandering around campus in a state of semi-consciousness.

I vow to be a good girl, to floss, take my vitamins, and to not waste my time.

More on that later.