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?