...keep refrigerated/garder au froid...

It just occured to me that it has been 6 months, past, and now I have a headache. This is a very odd way to live. I go about and do the days and see people, and *see* people, but it's all superficial and I know it.

I need to stop reading the Toronto Star horoscopes. They are dangerous and completely wrong for me. They alternately get my hopes up or make me anticipate the worst, and really how could they know anyway? What are the chances everyone born in the same 30-day span will go through the same types of things at the same time?

Fucking scam artists.

I want to talk to him but I don't know how. I want to *talk* to him. Which really just means say everything, all of it, and make him listen, so he gets it and I know he gets it.

My head *really* hurts. I'm going to bed, I think. I shouldn't be blogging anyway. I already talk too much, as it is. So, bed. I wouldn't mind chocolate first, but there is none in my immediate vicinity.

...non, t'as pas la haine...

je m'enfou, je manque à la tête... les extra-terrestes m'aiment

I saw a girl walking out of the Koffler Centre sucking on a turquoise pacifier. I didn't know whether she was demented or just playing cute.

"Tres bien" on my the writing assignment - and another due for next week. Hard, so hard, but interesting and I'm psyched to write it. It'll take a good chunk of Saturday, I imagine.

Speaking of "imagining"... I'm going back to the poster sale. I don't have room on my walls for any more posters, but I'm going anyway.

Do you know what tomorrow is? Do you?!

...focus on the fine indeterminate line...

Janet asked me tonight if I think I'm as cryptic as all that.

Well yes, now that you mention it. Until you cast this self-doubt on me, I did think that I was hidden, enough. Now I'm breath drawn, stricken. You weren't supposed to be perceptive as all this, any of you. It makes things horribly inconvenient for me.

Then she tried to make it better - said that maybe she picks up so fast because she knows the context. Which naturally makes things worse, because why shouldn't people know the context, recognize it, when they *are* the context?

At least I can tell myself I never talk about just one person, just one situation. I seem to have lost track of people's identities. Well, sometimes anyway. At times there are no finite edges and everyone blurs together - a canvas of colours imbued one into the next so that I can't make heads or tails of it. Then other times, everything frighteningly clear and embossed.

Tonight was like a breath of relief, the sigh of calm finally settling around like a dog at your feet. When Melissa and I took a break, and a trip down to Cafe du Crepe and ignored the world outside for a couple of hours. Long past time for that, I missed her so much. She's a beacon this one, always draws me out, draws me up. And I'm her good luck charm - because he called tonight, when I was there. It's like a gift, I swear. Her room is a soft orange and warm, beautiful and renascent, so much like her. Mine is like me as well - a little dull around the edges, but at least everything matches.

I'm completely drained as I write this. I've been reading poetry for the past two hours, out loud, to Janet. Underlining as I speak - did you catch that? Or this line? She's exhausted now.

Repertoire:
Guy Gavriel Kay
Pablo Neruda
Sylvia Plath
Edna St. Vincent Millay
T.S. Eliot

5 months ago, maybe more, Matthew read me The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. I remember being mesmerized and catching Melissa's eyes. Neither of us could believe it, completely awe-struck. I miss him tonight, all his scattered thoughts and poetic notions. I'd send him an email but it would probably be pointless. He still hasn't responded to the last two - but then in another couple of weeks I'll find a little note dropped into my inbox.

BERLIN IS THE FUCKING COOLEST PLACE ON THE PLANET!

...no mercy for swine...

we're the couple in the corner
tying up our tongues
to the percolating rhythm
of the big bass drums

I don't know what I would do if I took you seriously. Confused and unsettled, I'd probably cry for days because I wouldn't understand. There is no fallacy to my logic where you are concerned. I have to wonder if you knew what you were doing, what you were saying - because it created such a subtle but apparent a change in context that ignorance seems absolutely improbable. The problem then is this: if you aren't ignorant, you are cruel. There is no in between.

there is a reason strong moves slow

Imaginus poster sale in Sid Smith, and a gorgeous black and white of James Dean. Brought me back to a dark room, high up, a touch on the inside of my arm. Trying to get it out of my head that I'm not the only one.

"I want to know you in five years. I think you would be an incredible woman". I want to know *you* in five years. I want to know you now; I could if you let me.

I gauge my moods by the number of cups of coffee I consume in a day. My temperament is directly proportional to the amount of caffeine in my system at any given moment. Almost four in the afternoon, I am ready to move on to my third of the day. I'm paralyzed by polarity - desiring everything, accomplishing nothing. There is no in between.

...newsworthy...

i) My So-Called Life is re-running on Family at 11pm. I don't know if it's an every night thing, but I hope it is. Watched it tonight and went ballistic with memories and lovey-dovey feelings. And seriously, Jordan Catalano was my every adolescent fantasy embodied. Mmmm...

ii) The ibook is being acquired on Friday, and I love my parents so much, and I do not deserve them. I feel guilty because it's not a need but a want that will make my life infinitely more convenient - these guilt feelings will subside the instant I pay them back completely, and I will.

iii) The guy behind me in Law and Morality - beautiful. Philosophizes so prettily. Utilitarian this, hedonistic that, Kant, Hegel, love me, love me, love me... And actually, too sweet for words. He's fighting with C the french boy for the position of Coolest Guy with whom I have class. And he has an ibook. After I get mine on Friday, we can be ibook buddies!

Yes, I really am this lame.

iv) I think I saw every single person I hate on campus on St. George today, minus one. It's funny because as each one was seen, I got progressively more annoyed and I'm sure Janet didn't know what to do with me.

v) Single most newsworthy element of the day? Running into Tara, and finally speaking to Meliss. I miss my girls - and so, they will be seen. Tomorrow. It is decided, and will be done.

...what are you, new?...

This post had to be changed. It was frustrating me. Because although Javod is right and I *am* cute when I'm angry, I'm infinitely cuter when I'm happy and smiling and charming and bright.

Because in the long run, one lamentable little prick isn't going to imprint on my life too much. In the aspects of the life of me that matter, I have parents who love me, friends who are beyond belief, and essentially what amounts to a really great existence.

No anger, no drama - the lessons I've learned from my life gurus.

Also last night was just a beautiful night, how can you be angry in the face of such beauty?

The moon must have ended my bad mood.

It's all about <3 people, seriously. Just live in that vein and you won't go wrong. So in the spirit of <3, I'm going to try and see a whole bunch of the people I love today - I'm leaving now to visit, in turn, Lizzy, Farnam, Cheryl (if I can *find* her), and Meliss before the day is done.

Peace lovelies -

...the great deceptions comfort in the end...

My head hurts. To guide me in my French writing assignment (merits or lack thereof of vegetarianism) my roommates and I got into it last night. The two vegetarians + the one who isn't but insisted eating meat was wrong, versus me. At times versus Janet + Daniel as well, but mostly versus me.

The thing is though, the argument kept verging from the main essential point, the only essential point in this particular debate: am I entitled to eat meat? We drifted, logic became an ignorant memory, conclusions followed from faulty premises, conclusions didn't follow from faulty premises - it was a mess.

The conclusion (as dictated by me): Yes, I am entitled to eat meat. And will choose to do so. Tonight, in fact, when I make a steak sandwich for dinner.

...and my mind hushed the scandal...

Right-o: inconsistent and worrisome.

I'm taking it under advisement and allowing my head to wrap around the thought that this time, two-bite brownies just might not cut it as the answer to the world's problems. Something more substantial might be in the works for me. The thing is I don't have time, really.

Time, time, rhymes with lime. And incidentally, what I just noticed, with rhyme.

I tried to tell my mother, but she had none of that. She says I'm"fine", essentially dared me not to be. Goddamn Iranians and their social stigmas.

Janet bought me a brownie. I think I worried her, I'm sorry for that. This was a surprise to me too, I promise. Like a baseball to the fucking face. I don't usually break into cosmic tears at the drop of a hat and the seat of a pant. This was a rather new phenomenon and somewhat more than unsettling.

...passez-vous de cela...

C'est comme elle m'a dit. J'ai besoin d'une soirée du café et de la thérapie. On dit que la vie n'est pas facile mais que c'est plutot plus difficile quand on est stupide. Moi, je ne suis pas stupide, pas vraiment et pas en accordance de la définition apparente. En fait, c'est que je souffre de la stupidité inherente des autres. D'un autre.

Un mur d'un autre sort... Une onde qui reviens sans ma permission, et qui couvre tous avant qu'il se passe d'ici.

Je suis impatiente - je voudrai bien qu'il se passera d'ici.

...blog as message board...

Sometimes we ignore things that are too obvious. There is a silver lining on the cloud hanging over you. Act decisively on something that seems too good to be true.

To tell you the truth I'm not seeing anything obvious. I am definately not seeing something "too good to be true". Don't know why I got down again tonight. Which is a complete and utter lie, because I know exactly why. The point is though that I pulled another escape act tonight, and took a breather. Had early dinner with the parents, and on the way back downtown decided it wasn't where I wanted to be. The price of tickets out of Toronto is starting to catch up with me. Further, it always seems somewhat of a waste when I just have to go back the next day for school, or responsability, or life. All three are burdens and my shoulders are starting to buckle.

To the roommates - I'll be back tomorrow if I feel like class should be done. There is only one anyway tomorrow, and not a crucial one at that. If not, maybe I'll come back on Tuesday. That way I'll feel like I at least got some mileage out of my ticket, if that phrase makes any sense at all. I didn't even take clothes with me and so I'm sitting in a room that's a bigger mess than mine, on a computer which is head over heels better than mine, wearing a Trent rowing shirt that is not mine and that goes almost to my knees, and ridiculously comfortable boxers that I am not giving back. Ever. They are now mine.

Je lis rien dans tes yeux
Mais je ferme pas le livre
Tu restes mon miroir
Pour des soirs
Qui font mal...

Probably wasn't the best call, but now that I'm here I'm at least going to go drink. These Trent athletes are a funny bunch. Don't they realise they have class tomorrow? I guess they don't care very much either.

I'm running out of people on whose doorsteps I can just show up unannounced lol. I need to get on that. More like, I need to find a new city/country/life on whose doorstep I can just show up unannounced.

Remember that song by that New York DJ? What's her face?

Have you ever been close to
Feeling like leaving the coast too?

PS: Started Jonathan Strange on the bus and it's addictive, as I knew it would be. You all must read. The 800 and change pages are a little intimidating, but good god. I'm a good chunk of the way in now and rearing to finish. I want to rush through to the end and learn all the secrets then breathe a sigh of relief.

PPS: I love how my last post was all about the new me and wanting to go to an Ivy grad school, and now I'm running away and thinking of blowing off school. I feel like there are two me's - the ambitious one and the self-destructive. It's like a battle between them, you should all place bets. Exciting. Like dog racing.

...that was an irreverent video...

I saw my husband today, and clearly I love him. We took pictures of him and the yellow shirt. Ironically, he smiled and half-mouthed-spoke to Elly, who of the three of us (being me, Farnam, and herself), does not even like him and was bored through the taping of the show. Oh Jian, you dear boy.

Spent the day at Word on the Street, and at Burwash. Did my law readings, and bioethics. Wrote one paper. Am now excited to be holding in my hand Jonathan Strange which shall be started tonight and promptly devoured, despite the French writing assignment I need to have done by Tuesday. Clearly, this is a much higher priority.

There's a joint grad degree program I want to do at Columbia and Princeton (Law and Masters in International Affairs). What this means is that I will have no fun for the next three years as I am driven to maintain a 4.0, get Power in Diversity up and running, keep working at FTC and another project which is still being done and is being neglected more than I like. This is all so that I can go another four years after that, again with no fun. But we're excited, it's good. This is actually the first time since I entered university that I've felt motivated and had an end in sight, a tangible goal.

Yay me!

...say hey to bobby ray...

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Solmaz for introducing me to Mohammad Reza Golzar.

And to announce that she can be my bridesmaid when I marry him. Oh yes, I said that.

Nota bene: Toronto General Hospital has joined the list of places I can never ever go back to.

I'm worried about my old absentsanity site. Some porn spammer picked it up and is using it for their own devious purposes - the problem is that on some sites, like Hoder's, the link still has the address to the old site. I emailed him to change it, but nothing yet. And the link clearly says my name, so people are going to see it, go to this site, and think I'm some perverted freak who likes phone sex. We are not amused.

...mais qu'est-ce que je fus la...

Nobody commented on my post about the "better me plan". This means one of two things:

i) you didn't care enough
ii) you, like Nick and Derek, think it will not last. or that I will fail in the attempt.

I did something really difficult today - I had a conversation with someone who I have not really spoken to in 5 months, if I am honest with myself. I managed to keep the conversation completely untainted of any glibness or snide commentary on my part, and it was genial and funny. Afterwards I felt really good because I felt vindicated over something which had worn me down previously, and I knew that for the first time in a long time he left that conversation not wondering if I hated him or if I was playing some strange mind trick. I swear to God it wore me out though - no more than 5 minutes, but I was just mentally exhausted, after.

Today was generally an exhausting day, to tell you the truth. Earlier I had a conversation with Janet and Ashley about Iran. It started off innocently enough - I found a videotape of old Persian music videos. That turned into me explaining about the revolutionary message behind some of the songs. Which turned into a discussion of Iranian political history since 1945. Two hours later, I felt I had sufficiently explained to Janet the reasons for things being the way they are, the best hope of change, and key players and historical data.

I find that often when I am in a discussion about Iran, it turns into a long affair to explain fifty years of history that culminated in the nation being the way it is. Sometimes the tone is apologetic but often I feel this great need to explain. To explain and make sure that my friends understand, to dispel the belief of Iran as a primitive backward state. Is this just me?

Naturally after I do this, they all think I am a politically minded radical with neo-communist sentiments.

Last week my aunt held a dinner party in Oakville. After dinner when the conversation usually turns to politics, this night instead it turned to memories of the air-strikes during the war. They don't usually talk war. I remember a few weeks ago I had three end-of-the-world nightmares in one week. Dreams of buildings collapsing instantly, darkness everywhere, and a war that I knew was coming. I don't usually talk war. Sometimes I have this fear in my gut that things are going to spiral out of control. I hear reports of US saying they wouldn't count out air strikes in their campaign to stop Iran's nuclear aims, and I get scared.


Tu me manque, ce soir. Tes bras, tes gestes, tes yeux - tout ceux qui me faisaient comprendre que tout aura bien. Un mur d'un autre sort...

...is it any wonder i can't sleep...

The ennui I've been submerged in the past, oh, forever, seems to have disappated in the face of my new plan. A new ideology if you will.

I'm doing the "better man plan", something started by Mark, Terry and Mike last year which they followed through on for about three days. The basic premise: eat better, workout, study, work hard, and have integrity. The one modification I made to it? BE NICE. I have to be nice. The days of me as self-important bitch are over.

First step in the plan: called Derek last night and told him to get everyone together and come to O'Grady's. On the message I left him I was very clear (but he didn't get my gist anyway): I said invite everyone, no exceptions. Seriously, no exceptions.

I came to the realisation that hey, it's a new year, I'm a new person. People make mistakes and I can't resent them for it forever, especially considering the make-up of our crew and the fact the we are really one crew and there was the potential of always-awkward in the air. In the past I've been the kind to hold grudges forever. But no more! At least in public anyways.

The other modification to the BMP - no guys. I need to cleanse if you will, refresh, and do the independence thing. I'm not good at that. I have to learn to stand on my own two and not constantly have a guy. I need to get work done, hold down two jobs and get my act together without any distractions from guys. That goes for talking/blogging about guys too. You won't see it, because there will be nothing to discuss. Got it? Good.

The last bit, maybe the hardest one. Limited drinking, no smoking. Done and done.

That's it, the plan. Thoughts?

Incidentally, you have now seen the factors to explain any irritability I express in the coming days/weeks. Just so you know.

...he is NOT jewish - you lie...

i) I need $2000 and I need it now. Is there any way I can accomplish this that does not involve Jarvis St. and a mini skirt? We're not counting that out necessarily, but I would prefer working around it.

The reason? An ibook. That is haunting me, in my dreams and during the day. Also, the $275 rebate that ends tomorrow night.

ii) I want to make phone calls. Long distance phone calls. I'm feeling nostalgia for the people far away who I don't talk to enough and who I want to talk to right... now. So I want to call Seattle, and Boston (Cambridge?), and San Fran, and Boulder. But I only have a cell phone and no calling card. And even if I had a calling card, the long distance air-time would be a bitch. This is going to be a problem. Suggestions?

iii) The day I found out SM was gay, something inside me broke. Seriously. Why, I ask you? And obviously everyone in the whole world knows I'm ass backwards for him, and obviously he is still gay. I am not impressed.

iv) After 3 hours dealing with subway delays: our theories.

Rach: All the delays are somehow involved with Eglinton. Why? A city-wide conspiracy to convince everyone to move south of this god-forsaken street.
Me: No man, a different kind of conspiracy. It's about the suicides. They all jump at Eglinton.
Rach: But why that one stop?
Me: It's the halfway point of the two ends of the line. If I was angry and bitter enough to kill myself, I'd want to piss everyone else off when I did. What better way than to jump at Eglinton, middle of the entire system, and thus inflict the most general frustration?
Rach: That's brilliant. Think if you wanted to cause the most frustrating kind of agony. Jump during morning rush hour; people would go nuts.
Me: Take it one step further. Do it with a friend. You jump first thing in the morning at rush hour, your friend jumps around 5 right around afternoon rush hour. You manage to catch the suckers twice. Then the asshole who was late for work and then late for dinner loses it and he jumps too!
Rach: At Eglinton!
Me: Just in time to take care of the late night crowd.

*high fives*

v) Over lunch, Middle Eastern. "You're what, 22?"

Now that was a first. Until today he had never once lost sight of my age, never once even tried to reconcile himself to the "great divide" as I like to call it. Can I be optimistic now?

He said he would cook for me, sometime.

...dear (insert name here)...

I want to stop being a self-centred/selfless bitch. It sounds like a contradiction in terms doesn't it? But really it makes perfect sense. I want to stop being the "hasn't got past it" girl who still cares if the other is hurting. I need to pick one extreme or the other I think, not this haphazard collecting of random extracts of both. Either that or plant my feet firmly in the middle ground that is "civility". No more, no less.

I want to be as tough and cool as Melissa and say "Bye bitch", in the same context as she said it once, and have the scene played out in much the same way. Complete with guy standing slack-jawed staring after retreating hot-ass girl who just showed him his place (i.e. "somewhere over there").

A 4.2 second encounter or lack thereof left me with three hours of one too many thoughts. Then, in my usual vein of dealing with stress in a healthy and productive manner, I tossed back half a beer that wasn't mine, which mixed with the two beers and one Swig Newton that I had already had, all of which mixed with my antibiotics and the two Bextra I shouldn't have taken to create a melange that threatened to become "something wicked this way comes". At some point later, I smoked in the park with the old lady who swallowed a fly (all three of them), played metaphorical (not really metaphorical, but for lack of a better word) Hot Potato with shoes, and sat lamely on a swing set while Ashley flew through the sky beside me.

It looked quite freeing actually, her swinging. I'd like to go back tomorrow and give it a whirl. And while I'm up there, throw my problems into the wind, so they say.

Who are they?

You know. The proverbial ones. The ones whose lives are perfect and thus have the time to sit around telling the rest of us how to do it.

Back at home, still in my pretty skirt, still in my pretty shoes, I thought of my pretty life and how much I would like to drop it into the corner of my room to collect dust. I want to leave it and find a new one somewhere. There should be trade-in shops for things like this.

I tried to write you an email tonight. I got about two lines in when I realized the intoxicated verbal incontinence bit has already been done. Who needs ditto anyway? What I need is a psych-iatrist/ologist/otherapist. Otherwise one morning you'll wake to find there really is an inebriated conversation in your inbox, blinking obnoxiously. And you won't want to open it. Maybe you're worried about what I might say, or if I will ask more hard questions. Maybe you're just tired.

I'm really tired.

...emrooz...

If you read regularly Iranian blogs, you may have noticed many of them changing their names to "emrooz", either in English script (like mine) or the Farsi script. This is a symbolic gesture as part of a protest against media and internet censorship in Iran. For you anglophones, "emrooz" means 'today', and is the name of a popular reformist newspaper whose website is repeatedly under attack by government censors.

BBC covers the protest today and mentions the efforts of Hoder to this end. Hoder and others are constantly making efforts to keep information in the public eye and to get around the blatant censorship imposed by the Iranian government.

I assume they are trying to justify their censorship on the usual grounds. Swearing against the regime, insulting the pillars of Islam.. and oh yes, daring to have fun. *sigh*.

...should be taken with plenty of water...

I shlepped my ass to French after all, and glad I did because I. met. somebody. very. cool.

That is all for now, on that note.

Oh wait - to make Farnam weep with envy: he is F-r-e-n-c-h. And all that implies. i.e. gorgeous, smart, accent, curly hair, the whole 10 yards. Le melt.

NOW we're done on that note.

On another, remember the teacher who told me I don't "possede la langue"? Of our first writing assignments, she read mine out to the class as an example. I'm sorry, *who* doesn't "possede la langue"? Yeah. That's right.

...creative ideas for home...

The girl turned philosophical on me last night.

"Are you half-full of bright, flirty, inconsequential energy - or half-empty of anything deep and meaningful?"

She's talking about relationships of course, and my current trend of lack thereof. Apparently, I should be after more than just dating/making out with random guys. More specifically, she's talking about M and my current status of "scared shitless", to use the proper terminology.

See because I've heard all the arguments, the "love hurts, but try again" arguments, the "you're being an idiot" arguments. But I'm still queasy. It's like rollercoasters. You know they're safe, but still scared to go on. And you'll tell me yeah but eventually you get on - I don't. You may, but I don't do rollercoasters. Ever. Ask anyone.

I spent two days this weekend convincing myself to go to Middle House last night. Told myself, "dude", for that is how I refer to me, "dude, just go". So I went, and felt the lovely sensation of kick in the gut. We thought this was past, I know, but strangely, with school came a resurgence of things past and its all very frustrating. It seems that I didn't go far enough away. College/Spadina may be a bitch of a walking distance to my old stomping grounds, but for all intents and purposes it's the same old. Which shouldn't surprise me really, because thinking about it, I didn't really leave res (and all that implies) - I just brought it with me.

This "avoidance" mentality that is me has consequences in the real world as well - French is my only class at Victoria, in Northrop Frye, right across from the old residences. My attendance rate in this, the third week of class, is hovering around 50%. This will have to be fixed. But not today, because I am not in the mood for French today.

...on consumerism...

As part of a conversation on Aritzia and the pressing need for me to shop there:

Farnam: If you shop there a lot you become a preferred customer, and then they have *secret sales* just for YOU.
Me: I think you have to come with me one time. I feel as if shopping at Aritzia needs an "in". Like in a secret society.
Farnam: Can we go tomorrow?
Me: Yeah!
Farnam: Wait, no. I have to go before you. Sometimes, shopping at Aritzia is depressing because there are no sales. Then the whole "you want to spend $200 on Citizen jeans but you know you shouldn't" dilemna happens. I don't want your first time to be like that. I'll go tomorrow and scope it out, then we'll go sometime this week.

...short n' sweet (like my H&M skirt)...

i) I figured out the secret to locking the bathroom door. It's all in the hip. You gotta bum check the door for the lock to catch.

ii) Remember the Cornell prof we were excited about? Today was his first serious lecture - and he made me want to sleep. Soooo dry, poor man. The class is completely useless. I confess, I am disappointed. I wonder what they thought of him in the land of the ivy?

iii) Amir took me to Capocaccio at Yonge/St. Clair for lunch. So nice, so fun. And the staff all knew him and it made me feel special. Yeah, that's right - my cousin is the coolest.

iv) No Doubt, "Making Out". Playing loud and in repeat in my CD player. Gotta love the simplicity and utter efficacy of the lyrics, and how they still manage to be completely... floetic? I don't know. Something. But I enjoy.

The flowers arrive to my surprise
But that just ain't good enough
And I got the note, it gave me hope
But that just ain't good enough

So I'm just kicking it
I'm counting the days
I hardly can wait for us to hang out
I'm really missing it in so many ways
I anticipate us making out

...free your inner soul (break away from tradition)...

Lately, you've had some big misunderstandings to iron out. You are not afraid to deal with touchy issues, which is why certain people seek you out as their rock. Your fearless approach is exactly what's needed right now to sort out the impact of someone's rash actions.

Wait --- you mean someone *other* than me did "rash actions"?

And ps: I really *am* a rock. Hot burning chunk of igneous baby. Didn't we cover this already?

...surgeon general's warning...

The topic was monogamy. Apparently, there are a lot of people struggling with the philosophical questions of this topic. You would be surprised at all the different viewpoints. You would be surprised at how many deeply committed don't necessarily feel the need to follow its dictats.

Sipping her post-dinner chai, S recounted her view: if you cheat, and don't feel guilty - you're in the wrong relationship. That's why she is breaking up with her boyfriend this week. She cheated, did not feel guilty, knew he was the wrong guy for not inspiring that guilt, will end.

Wait. She cheated? S? The "good" cousin? Huh.

M disagrees, animatedly. Says "cheating is horrible - if you are in a relationship, you can't cheat. Case closed. I would never betray someone I care about like that". Looks at me as he says that. Could have been coincidence, the timing of that. Could have been a message: "I would never have hurt you. You shouldn't have said no". An over-played chorus.

Over lunch on Friday, L told me that he thinks A and I should go out, a thought that has occurred to me before. Why have I not entertained this thought? Because twice in the past he has cheated on his girlfriends, readily admitting it, and excusing it as "we were in close proximity and had just watched a provocative movie" or something to that effect. Not for me, thank you. No excuse.

So there you have it, A and I will never be going out.

It occurs to me that this whole conceptualization may have practical implication for me. Could be this is why Steve stopped any and all contact. Maybe he felt guilty and feelings of guilt = cessation of contact. If that is the case, I wish him and the Waterloo girlfriend well.

Well. Most of the time I do. Sometimes I hope he'll accidentally slip and fall out the window of his high-rise apartment onto bustling Bloor Street below.

Splat.

...i think i made you up inside my head...

Farnam felt the need to remind me that hell hath no fury like a pompous persian scorned.

I took her advice seriously, really I did.

And then shaved my legs so they looked sexy and smooth. Because even though I *know* all this, and it is NOT a date by any means - I will be there, and he will be there, and my legs will be there, so they might as well look hot, right?

Right.

Speaking of hot - my hair will be down. I feel bad for all you guys who have only ever seen it forcibly contained and tied back, tame. You have been missing out. It's a Persian thing - we know great hair.

Says Elnaz - I thought you said you wouldn't blog till Monday?
Says me - You should have known better than to believe that.

...oh, bright...

Oh the boy is good, the boy is very very good.

I mean he called my cell phone and racked up some nice charges for me, so in that sense, no he isn't - but he is coming to Toronto and so we are pleased. See because *of course* I was never going to have the money to go to Seattle, but he rolls in it, and so he KNOWS his duty to shlep his ass to me when I need, and so he does, and so he is good.

And now my roomies/posse and such get to meet the one and only Christian who is quite possibly the most integral person in my life. And the only ex with whom I was ever able to stay friends, by virtue of the fact that he is integral to the extent he is.

Anyways - that's my story. He'll be here next Friday, he says. Which could mean anytime. Yay me!

...a gift, because i love you all...

Click here.

You can thank me later.

(Will take candy and/or flowers. In case of monetary givings, all major credit cards accepted)

...i am so, so entertained...

6 coursebooks for 3 classes: $290
Cost of parking at 4 different bookstore/copy locations: $21
Parking ticket received on Huron for parking the wrong way: $14
Upgrade for harassing police officer who gave ticket: $28
Sweet sweet satisfaction from knowing the U of T book satan sons of bitches are at the top of my hit list: priceless

Something to make you ponder:
At a handball tournament in Germany, the entire 23-man strong Sri Lankan team disappeared two nights ago. Concerned German authorities thought at first they had gotten lost in nearby woods, and when they didn't turn up, contacted the Sri Lankan ministry who responded: "We don't have a handball team".

Dum dum dum...

Today's update? The "team" is currently in France, having crossed into Italy from Germany. What are they doing there? Vacationing? Claiming refugee status? Who knows - but either way, there is a very let down, much outsmarted German tournament organizing team still scratching their skulls.

I love it.

And in conclusion - IR is worthless dribble, it is being dropped in favour of anthropology, in which course I am exploring grassroots womens movements. Amazing course, interesting program. It will be done. Yes I know this is my fourth switch, but I was assured that this is a) normal, and b) doesn't matter.

C'est tout.

Oh wait, I was wrong - it's not "c'est tout": I am away, will not blog until Monday. Be good.

...it's not a catchphrase, it's a movement...

Well here it is. I promised you it would come, and so it has - my "plug".

Me 2 We. You've all heard me mention it at some point, now I'm doing it again. Me 2 We is the new book written by Craig and Marc Kielburger, who respectively founded and direct the organization I work for, Free the Children.

You have to understand, I am not a walking advertisement. This isn't an ad. It's a recommendation. A very very high recommendation from someone who has read the book, then read it again, then given a copy to my mother to read, and on your respective birthdays, will probably give a copy to each of you as well.

The premise is simple: the anti self-help - by helping others, you help yourself. It's not very complicated. We have come to a point I think where we are so determined, so motivated to help ourselves move forward, that we forget how completely beneficial it is to ourselves, to our own minds and bodies and souls, to help others. Even the small actions - helping an elderly neighbour with groceries, smiling and thanking the bus driver as you step down onto the street, holding the door open for someone else instead of just barrelling through; think how much these small contributions can do to improve the spirit of community around us if everyone does the same. Think how this renewed spirit of community enriches YOURSELF as well.

Honestly, buy the book. Buy it, buy it, buy it - then spread the word. You won't regret it. All major bookstores are carrying it or soon will be. Also, check it out on Amazon.

That is all - carry on with your daily programming... but not before buying this book :)

...something big is flying around my room...

I just saw the premiere of the new Britney Spears video, My Prerogative.

I love it. I don't care what the poll said and that 70% of the populace hated it, I loved it and I am clearly the most important.

I want to be her best friend, seriously. We'd have so much fun.

...the complete rhyming dictionary...

So apparently the government has pledged some $45 million to healthcare? Is that correct? That's good, see because today I spent 4 hours in the health centre waiting to see a doctor. Then had to spend around $100 on medication. Maybe some of that money can go to making sure this does not happen again.

It was great though, really. I didn't even make it through one week of "relatively healthy". I think I've come up with a new theory though. I think that my various organs are banding together and conspiring to take me down. Every week, another will act up. Last night it was the kidneys, which I have decided to name Pif and Paf respectively. And now antibiotics + crazy painkillers.

This effectively solidified my status as "complete and utter baby". Yeah I left there, called my mom and promptly quit. Quit living downtown away from people to take care of me. So I'm leaving tomorrow after work (damn office - but for you I could leave now) and will head to home/Oakville alternately. Back Monday morning, since by the blessed powers that be I don't have class till 2.

Also, on the way back home, I bought two-bite brownies. I felt completely entitled.

And now I am going to bed, while my contemporaries are in class. I am not in class. I felt entitled in that too.

...olvidate de mi...

I can safely assume that when both my best friends and myself independently come up with the same solution (Farnam: r...rrrr...rr... - truly hilarious), then it ceases to become us being paranoid and becomes us being rational and intuitive.

Oh please, don't even pretend you are surprised. We all knew he was loco anyways.

I finally got the balls to cut cut cut today. Cut from phone (the number has changed), cut from location, cut from internet communication. I will be like an apparition in what as of today becomes a sudden disappearance from anything in his life.

If you love beautiful voices and melty music, go find Josh Groban. Listen to "Alejate" and "Canto Alla Vita":

Dedicato a chi colpevole o innocente
perso in questo mare si e arreso alla corrente
chi non e mai stato vincente?

Dedicato a chi ha sempre una speranza
davanti ad un dolore
nel freddo di una stanza

Dedicato a chi cerca la sua liberta

Canto alla vita
alla sua bellezza
ad ogni sua ferita
ogni sua bellezza

Finally, a secret admission to Farnam, to make up for the fact that I am a horrible person and forgot I was giving her books - remember Damien Rice? Right so turns out I have heard "blower's daughter" before, and it is single handedly one of the meltiest songs I have ever heard, can be competed with only by "hallelujah". I love it.

...truths of my life as i know it...

I love it. Looks like they'll let any bitter little boy into U of T. I could almost feel bad for him, if he wasn't so dreadfully vile. Past imperfects... I know more than you think I do. I could be wrong of course, but I very seldom am.

I'm in love with intellectuals. Philosophy, philosophy, why was I so harsh to you before? Bioethics is a thrill, Law and Morality much more interesting than I anticipated. The profs take much of the credit: a former Cornell prof and a lawyer working with the Attorney General's office. I want to spend the rest of my life critically thinking. To the point that it is distracting -- I spaced out in Bioethics lecture and fantasized about critically thinking intellectual things forever and ever. I should forgo any actual career and do this instead. Mm hmm.

For Ana (and all other T-hill ignoram..i?): Thornhill Village Festival is where quaint little Thornhill comes out to play. Local artists sell their work, Beer Market and live music, book sales from the local library, and general suburban silliness. For all that I protest my suburban upbringing, I am ridiculously enjoying of this festival every year.

...scientists and blue cheese...

There are millions of books that need to be read, not to mention millions of pages on the Internet. Yet none of this will help you with what you need now to understand. Experience is your greatest teacher. That's what you need.

I'm not impressed with the horoscopes from The Star. They are too often correct, which concerns me.

There you have it again though - secret language of birds. Is the answer. It must be.

I'm following the track of Hurricane Ivan instead of reading for Bioethics. My plan to be scholarly this semester seems to have escaped attention. So I sit here glued to the Weather Network. Storms terrify me. Hurricanes, tornadoes, all of it. They are so untamed and uncontrollable and random and powerful, how can one not be afraid of them? War, violence - all of these man made evils are, by virtue of being man-made, are somewhat controllable and are limited by man's own limits. There is no limit to what nature can achieve apparently, and so we have this monster of a storm bearing down on innocent people, leaving dozens dead in its wake.

It's interesting that storms are titled with people's names. It seems somehow natural to me since many of these hurricanes seem to develop an identity of sorts. Frightening no?

Good luck New Orleans, I'm praying for you.

...no whispered promises in cliche or in rhyme...

Right time but the wrong idea,
Well, you're making it all sound just the same.
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale
still over there in Berkeley Square.

Do we have problems of communication?
There's something I don't know and you can't explain it to me.
Let's talk the secret language of birds.

There you have it - Ian Anderson as life guru. So that's where I've been going wrong - the answer to all my problems is to learn to talk the secret language of birds.

Says Kristen: Well becoming a bird would involve pooping around your nest (ie: room) to mark your territory.

Dude. I just want to talk the talk, not walk the walk.

...so it is just like you said it would be...

it seems i am affected to the point that the best i can articulate is very bad poetry. i won't pain you with the extent of it, but a brief demonstration:

the game has too many players
like an onion with many layers

it's horrid i know. i tried to warn you. somehow in the same breath as trying to take in 7 hours of class today, i tried to beat down the path to a new resolution and wise comprehension, only to arrive in the same place i was just yesterday.

and the truth is bitter there
i want you want her

artists note: my post "a la miniscule" is meant to convey that i want LOVE in capital letters. did that go over your head? sorry. i'm abstract that way.

...i know what is sweet (sugarcane)...

I saw her today as I was going home, sitting on the curb reading a book. Sweet looking. Pretty, if you like that sort of thing. She didn't see me. That's probably a good thing.

It was a very, very odd sensation.

Says my French stylistic writing prof: "Tu ne possede pas la langue". Apparently, this means I need a grammar touch-up. Les temps de verbes, specifically. She tells me she doesn't know why she thinks I am a good writer, when my writing is almost incomprehensible for the grammar faults and tense changes. I tell her the truth, something I learned early on and still maintain - good writing has nothing to do with good grammar.

I will prove that to her on Thursday when I submit my first assignment. I am ridiculously excited about it - she's a kooky lady, a kooky Romanian lady to boot, and that is always good. The assignments are fun, not like the dry movie reviews and critiques from last years course, in which there was nothing creative or stylistic.

My point could have been a host of different things but it seems to escape me at the moment. So I will leave you with this instead - I am not a fan of business arrangements.

...scenariou...

Something I stole from Pedram's site, because I think everyone should see it.

I am writing this from Carr Hall; I am in French class. My "partie orale" teacher is 2 years older than me. Quebecois, and all that implies. Warren, the strange 40-year old, is flirting with her hence why I am able to write this unobserved.

I will leave now, and pretend to participate.

...the girl and the doll on a music stand...

A message that will not be received by its intended recipient: You are completely mentally unbalanced, and we are not okay.

Rachel tells me: "It's all very simple - next time he contacts you, you can promptly proceed to tell him to please die, and don't leave a mess".

A little more violent than I would have done - but the general idea seems to be there.

In brief:
- April is in two of my classes
- I strained something in my left upper arm today and it's Chopin's fault.
- Next week is my Dai Bahman's "cheleh" and I don't know what that means.
- The hot guy upstairs was skateboarding in front of my window today, and it was horribly distracting.
- I learned how to make an omelette.
- Saturday is Thornhill Village Festival. If Farnam agrees to be my date. If not then... well I'll go anyway, but I'll be lame and will wear a short skirt to compensate. Which I will probably do anyway because damn if I don't have great legs. But I'll be sad about it. Going w/o Farnam that is.

...come on closer, i want to show you...

i) The thing is, Jem's lyrics aren't anything special. Not deep or profound, really really infantile for the most part. But damn, the girl is catchy. Tracks 1-5 are awesome, and a couple other stellar songs can be found among the rest. So yes, it's a cheap easy listen, but it's an entertaining one. And the British accent is definately hot. I want a sexy British accent.

I also want a sexy British man.

ii) My bioethics prof is a recent transfer from teaching at Cornell for the past 7 years. An Ivy League prof. That totally excites me. Yes, I do realize how much the nerd I am. Please don't feel the need to tell me.

iii) I put up artwork and photographs on my walls and the place is starting to look put together. I put up one of my mother's paintings and it makes me feel -- homier. Speaking of homier, I found a Persian super in Kensington yesterday and bought noon barbari and doogh. Sooo yummy. Don't you wish you were here?

iv) The plaid miniskirt was definately a hot choice. Yay me.

...oh, lady be good...

I am forever going to be grateful to my mother for insisting that I begin and keep up playing the piano. Aside from the enjoyment that playing offers in itself, it's completely therepeutic.

Every mood has a piece. Today's was Chopin's "Revolutionary" Etude. Listen to the piece. My mood might be derived.

Then I played the Waltz, the long one who's work number I can never remember. But it's beautiful and challenging and the first "great" piece I mastered. It's my showcase. Except for when Houman plays it, and makes me look like an amateur. Which is why he is never allowed to play it again, ever. Despite the fact that it is also his showcase piece. He can have something else.

I will always maintain that the reason my mother would not let me take my piano with me is because she wants me to come back every now and again to play on it when I get missing of it. Because though I love the Trin piano, there is none like mine. Truly truly a beautiful instrument, and the best 12th birthday present ever.

This day was a trip. I am not a comfortable traveller and so would prefer to not have days like this again, alright? Thank you.

I'm going to go write to Sebastien now. Casual flirtation with a 32-year old French musician is *exactly* what the doctor ordered. And he is conveniently far enough away so as not to be a distraction in the real world. The real world which includes Bioethics tomorrow - a class which is hard supposedly, but interesting supposedly.

What does "natch" mean? When people say "blah blah blah... natch". What does it mean?

And to conclude - I love how people talk to me without greeting, misjudge my family and belittle it in a patronizing tone, then proceed to ask me for favours. I love this world. Crazy people, dontcha know.

Wait - I'm not done concluding. The phrase "good on paper". We need to further discuss at a later point, but not now because I'm tired and a letter waits to be written. But later, it will be said.

...il y avais un temps...

I have to confess I don't understand the purpose of some blogs. I found one today which was just pictures of what some guy eats at restaurants everyday. That's it, that was the point of the blog.

It tired me.

But then maybe this guy found my blog and is equally confused. You never know.

What is this egg bread and why have I never heard of it before? It's delicious. And nutritious!

...duly warned...

I feel the need to give a heads up to everyone that knows me.

I will be a bitch this week. It's not so much an intention "I will be a bitch", as a statement of fact. In fact, I started off on it yesterday when I received a call (to be titled: too little too late) and let him have it, accordingly.

It wasn't self-centred, it wasn't arrogant and it wasn't truly bitchy - it was justified. Naturally today the silence of my phone mocks me "I'm never ringing again, you ungrateful girl", but to that I say "fuck you, ungrateful this" and tossing up a finger.

Janet stands over my shoulder as I prepare to write this. "Remember what we talked about" she says. I remember, I remember - and therefore I think I am going to follow onto Mark's 3-month plan. THE 3-month plan of avoidance to breed independence, and so on, and so on. I can so do it too.

Mark tells me that if I ensure he meets my friend Robin (thus effectively negating the three-month plan, I wonder if he's realized) then he will ensure I get drunk tonight. Well that would be nice, quite frankly. Although at no time since Friday have I truly been undrunk, or unstoned. But the point is, I choose this way as my escape, and no other.

Except for one other, which is that I called Christian this morning and told him I was running away to Seattle. He laughed and said "sure". Then I filled out my passport application form and called him again. He stopped laughing.

(disclaimer: I don't mean running away forever, just for a leetle while. And also remember how many times in the past I have threatened to head west, and never got the cash together for the ticket).

I should set up paypal. The thing where you get money from people. You all could fund my flee.

Ha.. I said "fund my flee".

Update: When Greg called - "go away Greg, I'm not in the mood for you". Hung up. This is going to come back and bite me in the ass, I know.

...16.exe that is on the cd...

i) There is a paragraph that is missing. By missing I mean... well yes, missing is correct.

ii) I am officially a grownup - by virtue of the garage sale across the street, today I acquired a toaster, a complete cutlery set with plastic drawer tray, and 10-bottle wine rack. Also, I wore tweed and pearls.

iii) I lied, I'm not grown up yet - I sang along to Raffi. Also, I wore green stripey toe socks. With the tweed. And pearls.

iv) I'm going to fight with Farnam over the rights to the word "clearly". By which I mean, I love her and therefore we will share the credits. (But secretly, I will always maintain I used it first. And secretlier, she will maintain that she did).

v) Ring a bell?

...just relax now...

Somehow it is past 4 pm, and I don't know how it happened. I swear to god it was noon just 10 minutes ago.

My sent mail folder says I sent four emails last night, at varying odd hours of the night. To all the recipients - my apologies. You shouldn't have to make sense of my inebriated ramblings.

The words "never drinking again" come to mind. The words "never smoking again" should - but it is not going to happen. I have minimal self-discipline in that regard. And in other regards, in the past, but believe me when I say that changes.. now.

Welcome to the new day.

...ack...

Oh god, my head.

...steppin' thru...

Things said while under the influence should be... ignored.

I am sure there are rules about going to parties of your exes. As in, don't do it. As in, I don't care how many of your friends were here, don't do it.

The thing is, the "I'm a changed man" declaration was obviously false. I cite the example of a loud drunk sprawled on the floor of the upstairs kitchen, yelling "poon baby poon". 50 years later in a trailor park in small town Ontario, I'm sure this will be the common refrain, shouted over guzzling beers.

I mean, come on. It's not we've known ourselves that long.

If I was really brave, I would say it all. Without hiding behind circumstantial excuses. This is going to take some time and possible some alcohol. But there's a very fine line between courage and impaired, and I don't know if I have learned where to draw that yet.

The balcony Life is a fire hazard.

...the sun is out for another day...

HAHAHAHAHA fuck you diabetes, once more I have foiled your evil plans for me. You haven't found me yet, mother fucker.

Blood sugar NORMAL baby. N-O-R-M-A-L. First time in almost seven weeks, oh. yes.

AND now I don't have to go back for three weeks. A brief respite from my once weekly blood tests. It's good, I was running out of samples anyway. I can only give so much! So hopefully this means that my body is decided to behave itself, and I have yet to cross the line from "idiomatic hypoglycemia" to "diabetic".

In other news:

i) There is a new tweed coat in my closet. By that I mean in a garment bag on the floor of my mother's house because I am currently there.
ii) I need to sit and think and write something that really should be said vocally, personally but is hindered by a complicated distance.
iii) I bought a CD today after telling myself I wouldn't. And I promised myself so faithfully too! But I listened to the first track in HMV and it was hot. And then I said, okay, if the next three are all good, then I will buy it, but only then. And then the next three were all good, and so I had to buy it. But really, what are the chances of that?
iv) The CD was Finally Woken by Jem. She is British. Very cute, very cool.

...leaning into the afternoon...

I think sometimes there must be something stronger than "coincidence" to account for these days. This is the kind of day I would take as evidence of a higher being. A higher being that likes to play jokes on me.

I want to be simple and easy. I mean life, I want life to be simple and easy. Three emails, three separate people/problems/stories. Too many variables for my world.

One is complicated.
One stings and makes me wince.
One breathes of double standards, boy's play, hearsay.

Confused? Yeah, me too.

But in what is apparently "good" news - it appears that I was gotten over. I am smiling, can't you tell?

You all deserve a prompt reply. You will not get it. Maybe tomorrow when my head has stopped hurting and I've decided you deserve some of my attention (not many of you do, for the record). Did I say head? I meant heart. No I didn't, I am stronger than that.

Only one of you will get a reply tonight (by which I mean, I already sent it) and that is because this was the easiest. It's not hard to yell at people, after all, and tell them their friend is horrible and regretted. It's a little harder to do so diplomatically, but I am a bright girl, with finesse. I can navigate these social mindtraps with a rose between my teeth (does that turn you on? A sexy image, I know).

I'm rambling. I know this too - I'll leave now.

...a cumbersome identity...

It appears that I am no longer myself.

Because somehow without me being completely conscious of it, the following things have occured:
- I find myself in a Philosophy program
- I might be transferring to Trinity (Farnam: don't say it)
- I am going to be in Vag. Monologues this year.
- I turned down the Red Room last night in favour of cleaning my room and reading (THIS is what is truly worrisome).

Also: I have made a politically (c'est a dire: vengeful) decision to not purchase any of my course reading material this year. U of T bookstore screwed me over with their backorders, so I... cancelled my order... and... must get by another way. Which I think means spending a substantial amount of time in Graham Library doing my readings there.

Naturally, I will be spending some of the money saved by this little misdecision on a new purple tweed jacket from the Gap to be purchased... tomorrow. Completely contingent on whether my doctor has good news for me or not. If he does, then we shop. If not, then... well we'll probably still shop, but with a heavier heart.

Pancreases are a nuisance.

...gah: the sequel...

HOW does this happen?

With all due respect to the mother and family and teachers of this girl, but how in the world does a 5'0 tall, 90 pound 15 year old girl hide the fact that she is pregnant from everyone in her life and goes on to deliver a full-term baby boy that she then leaves out on the street in a garbage bag?

Further, how does this girl justify leaving a newborn naked and bloody out on the street in a garbage bag?

People are damaged.

...gah...

If you're going to say sentences like "what's the big deal about porn? it's good for you", you need to be able to back it up. Otherwise, you come off like a chauvinistic dick-thinking manwhore, and such.

Incidentally, there seems to be no shortage of these kinds of males in my surroundings. I should probably hang out with different people.

I should probably have said no to this kegger tomorrow night. What was I thinking? I need to find the keys to my room before tomorrow, it seems.

First day of class 2004: T-minus 2 hours and 15 minutes. *shudder*

Also: There are some questions that sorely need answers. With the days getting shorter and the leaves falling around you, there is uneasiness that you are running out of time. What's changing around you now is to be celebrated, not feared. And you'll soon see why.
- From the Toronto Star horoscopes

...a correspondence...

I want to put a billboard over my house.

"I put faith in you, don't disappoint me."

I want to let that serve as a warning that I am out on a limb, that I went against my nature and better judgement, that I refused to listen when you tried to warn me you were slime. I am keeping it in my head that you admitted you do things to make people not like you, that it makes things easier for you. Benefit of the doubt and all that.

But I've been in this place before and my patience is definately thinner this time around. Any more games, and I am liable to just cut and run.

Or maybe none of this matters anyway - maybe you already cut and ran?

Actually, maybe that's not even it. It probably didn't even go to that far. I mean it's just a couple of nights right? Right. So what's there to cut?

...not a complete and utter waste...

I think the only redeeming quality of Vanity Fair (aside from the absolute beauty of James Purefoy) was the performance of Gabriel Byrne, who proved with this film (though he proved it with Point of No Return as well) that he is now, as he ever was, the sexiest man in the entertainment industry. Good heaven.

But aside from that, garbage. I don't know what that silly little Indian director chick was thinking, but she thought it wrong. No climax, no proper ending, it just... stopped. There was a strange India theme followed through the entire movie, with odd cheesy music in each India scene. And just a horrible adaptation of the book, honestly. And Reese Witherspoon was not a good Becky Sharpe, at ALL. She tried, bless her heart, but no. Although I think that is more the fault of the director again, than her own because I generally enjoy Reese Witherspoon.

But again, just for Gabriel Byrne and his eyes, I would probably pay another exorbitant fee to see the movie. An even more exorbitant fee I would pay to have an evening (...or a lifetime) alone with him.

He was going to be a priest at one time, you know. I'm glad he chose otherwise. Glad, even though I will not be able to benefit from that choice probably (unless I turn out to be reeeaaaly lucky). Also he's 54. Is that too old? 34 years? Maybe? Damn.

...white flip flops from HELL...

I love Ashley, but man sometimes...

The thing is that she is the kind of person who wants everything perfect, everyone happy, everyone friends. But you gotta understand that no matter what you try and do, there are some relationships that will not get fixed, and you just have to let it go and move on. It is NOT the end of the world that I am not friends with one person, nor he with me. It's not hurting either of us, as forcing a friendship would probably do. Just chill man, and let me chill. We were doing so nicely.

In other news, sometimes I wish I was rich enough to live the lives of the Holt Renfrew display mannequins. If they lived the way they are portrayed, I mean.

In yet other news - it has been three days since Saturday. Saturday of the phone call, do we remember? I. am. still. waiting.

PS: And yes, Elham *clearly* wins. Good girl, that one. Bright. She figured me out.

...or something to that effect...

I am sleepy.

Sleep was not had by me last night, except for barely.

I must become hyperactive right. now.

Do you know why? Do you?!?

FROSH DAY! Alright so I'm totally gee, and I'm going to Middle today to laugh at all the frosh. Then to Gap to see Tara and complain about why he hasn't called me. And then to scour the city in search of Melissa who MUST be back here, otherwise life makes no sense and my world is all askew.

That is all children. Have a nice day.

...umm...

Right so aside from the fact that I am crazy and/or a true genious, I also made a long distance telephone call to New York to no avail - merely to prove that I am brilliant. Which I am, but we already knew that. But long distance on a phone that isn't mine, probably not the best idea.

But good lord, what a crazy motherfucker.

PS: Long distance to New York at 5:30 in the morning! Yeah so crazy and horribly cruel. That's me.

Bye children, pray for me.

...i want to see my children laughing...

I think I am smarter than you or I know.

Because I found every double entendre before it was revealed, and saw it coming. The problem was, I didn't know what "it" was. I can never put it all together, get the big picture.

I think I am meant for bigger things than this. Bigger than being up with a headache at quarter to five in the morning, after having spent the last 9 hours reading a book that had me gripped at every turn, and questioning everything I knew of history and general knowledge and art.

I don't know what this means, but it seems that all of a sudden I (along with however many people before me) have a new interest, new hobby. New obsession? Maybe - because I stopped reading a half hour ago, and I am now in full fledged research mode at my computer.

God love the internet.

God... interesting. Another thing to think about tonight. I should go to bed before my thoughts start running away with me. I need more hardcore research tools than this anyway. I need a library. I need "the" library. Is there such a thing?

Fuck - I am either a complete nerd, or a hopelessly naive simpleton, or a brilliant mastermind. Or an incomprehensible combination of the three.

You would probably understand me better if it wasn't the middle of the night, and I was speaking with something at least somewhat resembling coherence.

Aside - Most of what I read tonight, and later researched, was new. Some of it was not, and absurdly enough, was historical context (strangely accurate historical context) that I read in an obscure romantic novel with a captivating minor character. An obscure novel which made the only reference to any of this craziness that I have read so far, and dudes I have read a lot of books (absurd and otherwise). I don't know what my point is, except that if someone brilliant and someone not so much so, both stumbled across the same general things and tied things together like that, shouldn't it mean it was real? Right? Umm... forget it. That's my simpleton part talking. The rest of my parts are going to bed... now.

...oh, that is a big reptile...

My niece can do a perfect imitation of the Indian from Master of Disguise. She's 10 and a born comic. She's also one inch away from being the same height as me. Fucking scary man.

Alessia is still as ever the love of my life. I high-tailed my ass to Oakville this weekend to get some time in with the baby, and man, my heart is melting. She has learned to give kisses "Alessia, dona-me baccino" and is perfectly content to sit in my lap and chew on my face. Good, so I have become a teething tool. So be it. I decided that to wait another three weeks to a month in between visits will not be endured - so I'm going to go back this weekend. Done and done.

I'm going to go to Middle House tomorrow - Derelito will be back, and so will Noah. Melissa Melissa, where is she? That is what I want to know. I need my Meliss. This will not be condoned. If you are Melissa and realize that I am talking to you, umm... call me? Yes, that will be lovely.

If you are a certain other person... umm... you call me too. Right. Now.

Thank you, and good night.

Oh wait two more things:

i) An article in the Toronto Star about the 1988 slaughter in Iran, courtesy of Kaveh. This article really is more important than a footnote on a random entry - but I'm too braindead to write something more extensive at the moment. If you wait, it will come.
ii) The song "sway" by Michael Buble - download please, all of you, quickly.
iii) Mark says my word is like "some non-carbon composite". I disagree - just because I told him I would visit Middle on Saturday, then forgot and ran away to do the family thing.

...say it's only a paper moon...

My pancreas is turning against me.

In the face of once a week blood tests to monitor my blood sugar for the coming weeks, I look around me at the people walking around taking their healthy pancreases for granted and I grow bitter.

I don't really have a point to this.

...this is the way (the way, the way)...

I'm rewriting the Power in Diversity constitution, and adding a functioning protocol.

In my opinion, the CRA is an idiot for giving PiD charity status based on that flimsy document. Great organization, great concept - but so much work to be done. I laugh thinking of Chesler and co. in the face of a CRA audit. Oh, bright...

Why hasn't Matthew emailed me yet? Being in Germany is *hardly* an excuse. They have computers there, and I am having serious issues. His insight would be much appreciated. Also, the boy is his friend, you know? If he acts like shit, then my irrational self will by default begin by blaming Matthew. By the same token, because Matthew is such a great guy, we are setting a lot of faith in the boy, assuming he will be likewise great, despite some minor evidences to the contrary. We go on, we go on...

The other day I discovered that someone who I had been jealous of had actually been jealous of me at the same time. That really pissed me off, because I am nothing to be jealous of. Especially since the reason she was jealous was because I was dating a guy she wanted. The best thing we could have done would be to have both forgotten about this guy (he turned out to be kind of a mo) and become friends instead. Because the couple of times I met her, I thought she was very nice and I liked her.

However, on the chance she would not care to be friends with me (it is quite possible, maybe I'm just being the big person) - now is the perfect chance for her to go after that guy. Stupid guy so stupid call, but hey, to each their own and if she wants'em, all the more power to her.

...several conversations about one thing...

i) with Farnam

1-hour long, therefore summary: general disappointment in Atta + recap of this week's boy adventures (in the plural, no less). She is shocked, dismayed but (dare I say) proud?

Also, my brother's ex-girlfriend doesn't want to be friends with me because I happen to be related to my asshole brother. Does it mean nothing that I am on her side?

ii) with Rachel (after two days of trying to reach her, to no avail)

Rachel: Sweetie, you are unbalanced. Are you ok? But be quick...
Me: BE QUICK?!?
Rachel: Oh no. What happened?
Me: Do you have any idea what I have been doing the past two days?
Rachel: Oh no. I am almost afraid to ask. What happened?

I recount. I include keywords (i.e. girlfriend, candles, elevator).

Rachel: Are you INSANE?! This has to STOP. RIGHT NOW. Do not call, do NOT pass go.

... am I allowed to selectively accept advice from my best friend?

iii) with Tara

Tara: I hope he sweeps you away! (with exactly that enthusiasm)
Me: Oh Tara, you are such a romantic, man.

But I do, in fact, hope he sweeps me away.

...i have become a silent movie...

Today's horoscope: "It's a time of change and movement now. The shifting sands are being blown every which way by strong winds. All will soon settle down and peace will be restored. Now is the time to lay claim to what you want and make it known to all."

What do they mean by "now"? Does that mean "right this second"? Because laying claim to what I want involves a phone call I promised myself I wouldn't make (until Saturday... or tomorrow night if I really crack). And also, I need to not be the only one claiming.

At least I got the "make it known to all" part going. Is there anyone here who isn't clear on what I want? By which I of course mean who I want?

Yeah, didn't think so.

...let's solve the world's problems: reprise...

At dinner tonight, my father suggested he start a religious cult called Peacelam, the purpose of which would be to distance those true Muslims who follow the peaceful traditions and pillars of the faith from those who manipulate it into the fiasco shown us by the media.

He was joking, I'm sure. Simply frustrated by the negative connotations that Islam receives from all sides these days.

I countered by saying that his idea is counterproductive and not ideal, even in jest. The very fact of creating another faith with Islamic values and having it there to separate it from violent individuals who act in the name of Islam creates the belief that Islam is not peaceful. What we should be doing rather is promoting the peaceful beliefs of Islam however we can and showing the difference in our faith and the twisted version seen by others by our actions; upholding the true meaning of a beautiful religion.

...you reduce me to cosmic tears...

Javod says he'll "heart me forever".

*melts*

I know you wish that was you.

It's just a ploy though you know, insincere. I'm being used for my technological commodities. And such.

Kristen says I'm glowing today. I suppose I am. It has been an odd couple of days, and gonna get odder I am sure. The drama isn't intentional, I swear. It just seems to find me somehow. I think, this week, I just might have stolen the crown from Deanna. Speaking of which, I need to see her soon. I'm feeling Dee-prived. (haha, did you catch my crazy wit? oh boy).

I sat down and memorized his phone number today, just so John Mayer couldn't relate to me. Rachel knows what I'm talking about.

Bye darlings, the world is malleable, inconsistent. Go wrap it around your little finger, and play.

...ya abolfazl indeed...

I think that if I thought hard enough, there is a way in which this is all Bridget's fault (see: living vicariously).

...i'm your connection baby...

I have 6 more gmail invites - who wants 'em?

...let's solve the world's problems...

He has a love affair with James Dean. I have a love affair with him.

And after 5 hours of straight talking before anything else began, I know it is not only chemistry, although it is the chemistry that will get me into trouble. Because there is still the girlfriend. The summer-in-Hungary girlfriend. The 6-days-of-the-week-in-Waterloo girlfriend. The comes-back-to-Toronto-next-Friday girlfriend. The girlfriend who is, quite obviously, not me.

I am not that girl, and he is not that guy (so we say) and yet we do what we do, and can't seem to stop. Don't think too much less of me, but I'm not even going to try.

My lips hurt, and my neck. Janet is not here and neither is her Parisian scarf - and with that go all my hopes of concealment tomorrow at the office. This is going to be a problem.