But Sometimes

Sometimes it all just hurts too much.

Last Night, I Had A Dream.

And in this dream, I got to freak out at and confront my former best friend (ooooh, you say, an EX-BEST-FRIEND?!) and oh, it felt good. Unfortunately, I'll most likely never be able to do this in real life because there is a very small chance I will see him again (which, in itself, is disappointing). Never has a confrontation felt so good, albeit unsatisfying. Maybe one day I'll get to do it for real.

Lately, I've felt very reclusive and hermit-y, although (or because) I work in a mall 50 hours a week, and haven't felt like doing much of anything that includes other people. Even emailing and messaging and telephoning are too much for me. I feel bad about this, because usually I am the queen of communication. So if you are reading this, and haven't heard from me in a while, I apologize. The best I can offer is that I hope I'll snap out of this soon. Otherwise, it was nice knowing you?

I'll be in Houston, Texas from March 11th until March 17th. Yee-haw!

One Fell Swoop

I think the thing that scares me the most is how serious he seems sometimes, and if that seriousness was directed at me, I would vaporize. It's what I can't see that affects me the most. It's that seriousness, and his age, and how much I want it to happen. Those are the worst. And the worst of the worst is having a tongue tied, horrifying, unending moment where I can't say what I want to say. That moment will exist forever in my nightmares.

There is a place at the top of my neighbourhood (it's hilly, imagine it) where at night, I can see downtown and Canada Olympic Park and all of the neighbourhoods and streetlights in between. I like to go there when the wind is blowing, so that I can pretend that it can help me fly.

I'm still enjoying life now, more than most days, and I'm so glad to feel alive again. I wish it weren't so easy to be selfish.

Playgrounds Are Graveyards

And all of our scars are permanent.

I've returned from Toronto (on Monday morning, in fact) after sleeping in an airport, lots of eating, seeing Emily Haines & the Soft Skeleton on the Danforth, so many buses and trains and planes that I couldn't even keep track.

It's 2007, everybody, so let's begin anew.

I've been thinking hard about my next tattoo. I've found an artist that does excellent work, and am seriously considering getting a picture this time (unbelievable, I know), so I just need to decide what. I usually get flashes of inspiration and am always completely happy with what I get, but this time I have none and thus will be unhappy with an impulse. I'll keep you updated.

It's terrifyingly cold in Calgary, again, and although I am going to hate myself tomorrow morning, I am going to walk to the gym in the snow and give 'er. After the wind-down from Christmas, work is mind-numbingly boring and I've been spending somewhat regrettable amounts of money in the mall in compensation (lululemon, half-price calendars, a new flatiron, a new bath loofah, why? Why? Why?).

Considering my many useless and somewhat overambitious ideas of late, I've actually come to a conclusion: I love Calgary. I am staying in Calgary. I am going to go to school here in Calgary starting in the fall and I may or may not have a 3 year plan that begins and may or may not end in Calgary. Within this 3 year plan is a few months of travelling, lots of months of schooling, and hopefully at the end an actual career. We'll see how this goes. It's actually horribly exciting to have a firm plan that might take me somewhere, and I can't think too much about it or I might explode into little tiny atoms of excite!

And now, as I shiver alone in my room, typing and listening to the Donnie Darko soundtrack & score, I leave you with this:
Is the past automatically better than the future, or vice versa? And why?
Thanks, Emily.




Goodnight, moon.