...auld lang syne...

If I am cool, tonight I will get dressed up, toss back a couple tequila shots, and go to Thymeless for Wes's party + to see Nick + to hang out with the coolios.

If I am not (and to tell truth, at the moment I am feeling not), I will get dressed down, eat popcorn and watch videos, and finish the KidLit thematic catelogue so I can bring it in tomorrow, and maybe also do the US fund conversions for the School Building donors for Free the Children. Working on New Years, part-aaayyy!

Asia Relief Update:
Bill Graham called the office today, and is attempting to arrange a military transport for the medical supplies we have gathered. There will be a press conference in the next couple of days, so stay tuned. Please, please, please donate to the Asia Relief. I don't care whether you go through FTC, Oxfam, Red Cross, or World Vision but get in touch with one of these amazing groups and lend a hand. Cash, clothes, whatever help you can give, please give it.

My So-Called Life Update:
i) I was this close to having a visitor at work yesterday, and didn't go to work yesterday. Clearly, I suck.
ii) My favorite sweater smells like cheap Italian cologne, and is reminiscent of a cheap Italian boy, and it is all quite frustrating.
iii) There is talk about me working on donations for Academy over the summer. I am not a fan. I begged the Brahmin to let me help on development stuff, so we are waiting for him to pull strings. Marionette-like.
iv) If I were a marionette, I would be so pretty. You would almost die from all the prettyness.
v) There is a crazy man outside the office, yelling at a van parked across the street that it stole $500 from him and now owes $5200. He is deterring me from leaving, because I am afraid. What to do? Why aren't there any brave men around to walk me home? *sigh*

...me and air transat = close like THIS...

In the face of no internet service I ran away to a friend's place to get some work done, only realizing after I'd shlepped all the way there that I talked to Kristen earlier today online, while she was at home. Which means that internet service has been restored.

I am so silly. So with my sheepish grin, I will pack up and return to my lovely blue house and my lovely non-blue Kristen and her bunny who I have become attached to this week (heaven forfend). But not before I have had some pomegranate, because it is yummy (can you tell I am visiting a persian friend? See how good he is to me).

Happy New Year!

...SMS SMS...

A stunning example of the power of blogs as an immediate media tool, DesiMediaBitches group blog Chiens Sans Frontieres is a collaborative which has switched gears from it's usual discussions on India/Pakistan political affairs to blogging the devastation of the tsunamis in South East Asia through the first hand accounts of colleague Morquendi. In the face of interrupted internet service, Morquendi has taken to sending SMS messages from his cell phone to the group, who is then publishing his accounts on the blog.

...i have these dreams of walking home...

Love hurts.

Seriously - whoever created that phrase wasn't talking about any of the injuries caused by the emotive aspects of love, but the full-body-ache-muscle-pains of it's physical manifestations. The fact that I got through 8 hours of work yesterday on my feet and walking around, especially since the hours between 2 and 6:30 overlapped with someone else's 8 hours of work - the fact that I got through it with grace and aplomb speaks very highly of my iron will. The Ice Queen-ness was also quite impressive. You ought to be pleased.

Notes:
i) Free the Children is donating 1 million dollars worth of medical supplies to the areas affected by this weekend's devastating tsunamis.
ii) Indian food is a good compensation for feeling miserable. Chocolate is an even better follow-up.
iii) I am hereafter allergic to the following: Italians, actors, misplaced and arrogantly timed quotations from old films, anything to do with the legal or engineering professions, and once and future bartenders.

Nick is coming home tonight! I couldn't find concert tickets so I have to miss that (sorry my love), but I am free for drinks afterwards? Possibly maybe?

...my life, public toilets, and other crap-filled things...

Right - nix the over-dramatic angst-filled blog post and replace it with this: the moral that I don't know what I'm doing, must stop whatever I'm doing, and never do all of this again.

I hate:
- Casablanca

And actually that's it, Casablanca. Fucking movie. What was that about anyway?

That's a lie. I also hate:
- benefits of the doubts
- assumptions
- accountability (or the lack thereof)
- Italians

And I'm not too fond of honest opinions from Rachel. Especially when she's right.

Fuck. P.S. What's the deal with the fact that being a male at 20 essentially negates logical thinking? But the important thing is that I am still allowed to hate him, logic or not.

...on liberal attitudes (otherwise known as "all hail the year of the sloot")...

It would be nice to come home to an empty house, clean and have no dishes to wash since I'm the only one here and the house was to have been empty-ish since Saturday. Alas, coming home tonight the sink was full of dishes (not mine) and what I took to be tea leaves? So, to whomever of my roommates left for home having left countless cups of leftover tea in the sink for someone else to clean up - said kitchen sink being clogged due to excess tea leaves - you deserve to be drawn and quartered. Because only having 1 hour from when I get home to clean AND make myself (more) beautiful before the time when The Boy¹ (henceforth to be capitalized because the coolness is paramount) is coming over, tea leaves were an unforseen disaster I could have done without.

Empty houses are so nice sometimes though. (Although only sometimes - because generally this week I have missed my roomies SO much).

¹Aside to Rachel: We thought about the whole morality/immorality, following sensation/thinking clearly bit and decided to go with the flow. I'm a big girl. I will sow my oats and then reap them. You know what I mean. And should I live to regret it, well so will it be. And should I be a font of hypocrisy... well so be that too, because he's cute and I want. Ok? I'll think about the rest tomorrow

...forca!...

The only thing that matters from today: I AM STAYING! They love me, and the kids manager told the head manager that she wants to keep me and he said sure, so I am staying past seasonal contract and this is wonderful news! I love my job, I love the books, so much that I took the card catalogue thingie home to update and familiarize and organize.

Oh but this was a good day.

...they came, they saw, i conquered...

Abridged version:

The celebrity - it's silly calling him that, because it doesn't mean anything except that I am 12. In reality, a very intelligent, very passionate and motivated, very talented individual who is well known for his efforts and accomplishments. He did indeed come tonight, and I was very much pleased. His latest plans involve the establishment of an NGO, for which he said I can help and now I feel like the queen of the world.

I really hope he (and those he knows) do not read my blog. Because as much as I pretend otherwise, this is really just a silly exercise to keep me connected to my friends and give voice to my paranoid contemplations. No one credible should actually read it.

More to come, just not now because I want to go to bed. Salute.

...comparisons are odious...

Sitting at the computer when there's allegedly a party going on around me. One of my mother's parties. Started off well, seems to be going splendidly. Except for the fact that I'm sitting at the computer when there's allegedly a party going on around me.

It's all my cousins fault really, because contrary to all laws of fairness she turned out beautiful and stunning and slender and huge-eyed and witty and bright - and I turned out like me, really rather pretty in my own right, witty as well though too often sarcastic with an edge some find unladylike and thus undesirable (the term most commonly used is abrasive), slender now and aiming for slender...er - yet, alas, nothing at all to her. Which would have been fine and overlookable except that tonight she isn't here, and when I asked my aunt why, she said "hamash takhsireh --------" (It's all ---------'s fault). Now in the blank, insert the name of someone gorgeous and brilliant and politically interested and interest-ing who is clearly out of my league but oh how I always have wished he could be in my league, and now surprise of surprises he might be seeing my cousin and if not seeing at least he's friend with her and I didn't even know they knew each other?

I am not impressed.

This is going to be a long night. Also there is a winter cold advisory in effect and I'm worried that while I'm away, the pipes in our place will freeze again because there's no one there to leave the water running. It also occurred to me last night that Ashley is probably not at home, and the house is empty and there is no one to feed the bunny. Despite myself, I am worried. I'll be home tomorrow night, and will feed him promptly but I do wonder about the state of the poor thing tonight.

I mean seriously, I am the only young person here except my brother. I am the uber uncool. I hate everyone who did NOT show up tonight. There is still one guest left to come however. If he comes tonight, it won't matter that no-one else came because really, he's the most important, and the reason I manoevered out of my work schedule to be here, because he's celeb-like but also wonderful, and I am too much dorkily in adoration of him to even be allowed to exist. But the point is, if he comes I am happy. C'est tout.

...the a la menthe!!...

Addicted to Nikkfurie, blasting it in my room blasting it for the neighbours wish I was blasting off - the sound is relative to my life, evocative of the crazed moments running around almost as a chicken with her head cut off, but a tangible beat in the background holding it all together. And even the run-madness is done in style, with class.

A strange and wonderful song that is manic while still repressive-calm. I can't explain it, I can only feel it. The world as I know it in 2:22.

...times a go go...

Having just finished "Of Love and other Demons", Gabriel Garcia Marquez is moving ever higher on my list of favorite authors. I thought of Farnam and her long flight today, hoping she has good reading material for the ride.

Watched Mean Girls, and the truth in the movie made me cringe. Is this really how our society is?

Am currently waiting for my daddy to come home with chelo kabob from Zaffron, staring miserably at my lonely, silent cellphone, and hoping the two Tylenol extra strength I took an hour ago kick in soon and diminish my third migraine of the week. Also wondering why exactly I have had three migraines this week. The word on the street is that I have a vertebrae out of alignment. What does that mean, is it related to my headaches, and how can I make it go away?

Oh yes, and Merry Christmas.

...salam alaikum!...

The call came around 2am, waking me. Slumbering voice I answer and someone asks for Jackie. They sound a little bit drunk, and I have to say twice that there is no Jackie here before they understand they have the wrong number. "I'm so sorry!", the voice on the other end says, "Go back to bed, Merry Christmas!" I hang up, thinking that's the end of it, and go back to bed.

Two minutes later, the phone rings again. "You know I really am sorry" he says "I know how obnoxious it is to be called by wrong callers late at night". Well if you know how that feels, I'm thinking, why are you still calling me?

Somehow we start chatting. His name is Sean/Shawn and he was trying to call his sister's new number but had mistaken one of the numbers. After around 20 minutes, I asked him shouldn't he leave and go call his sister, if she was expecting his call? He said yeah probably, then said "Hey I know your number now. I'll call you, okay?" Sure, I said, why not? He sounded cute.

...allusions macintosh orchard...

Last night and watching The Sound of Music on tv with Ashley and Martha, I had a strange fleeting sensation of goosebumps and remembered another December 23, three years ago, and Joe laughing that he hadn't seen Sound of Music, ever. So we pinky swore that one night he and I would sit down and watch it.

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you - we love you and always will, that stands to reason

Do you remember getting all those email forwards about telling your loved ones how you feel about them? I know everyone disregards them, but the message is a real one. Tell your parents/friends/relatives/lovers that you love them - spend time with them, make room for them in your life. You don't know when that opportunity might be snatched from you forever.

Last night before Christmas, hope you all have shopped, hope your ready for a good time. I certainly am. Taking a break tonight to do Christmas dinner Janet-style, then heading to my parents house for love, hugs, food and a bubble bath. And also, clean sheets.

To all of you who a) are outsiders in-town for the holidays, b) are students on holiday and have time on your hands and c) claim to love and adore me - to all of you, if you do NOT make time for me this holiday season, you will be cursed forever and ever amen, in several languages. What that means, clearly, is umm... call me because I want to see everyone (even you).

...damn you! you little lying delilah!...

I will never, ever forgive Joel Schumacher for this movie. Ever.

Loved:
- having a close-up, larger than life visualization of Phantom of the Opera
- Minnie Driver (we are bffaeaeae)
- submerging in the music, the voices

Hated:
- Emmy Rossum and her too-pensive, angst-filled eyes and placid acting - no charisma at all, only one touching scene (the lonely kiss)
- the strange dancing in the background of Don Juan Triumphant
- a blond Raul
- over-the-top everything, and distracting cinematography
- spoken word-ing what should be sung, sounds like rhyming talk, so silly

All in all:
i will buy it out of loyalty to ALW, my first and truest love. Will curse Schumacher from the depths of my soul forever and ever amen. Will continue to insist that a musical of this calibre cannot be made into a movie without some serious risk of unintentional comedy.

...a lump of cheese in your stocking...

Watching Christina Aguilera on television, bored and rather disgusted. She really started taking tastelessness to a whole new level. The day has been full of ups and downs.

Ups: The a la menthe, Italian pastry and pretty pink earrings bought from a strange Japanese art gallery I stumbled across today.

Downs: Carrying groceries home in the snow, missing you missing you missing you, I have no kahlua (but Kristen does), four months worth of donor cheques to process, and I've pissed off half the free world today.

Notice that there are more downs than ups.

About the last point: I'm not trying to be antagonistic or angering, I am just really frustrated and trying to have people understand why. This hasn't really been the greatest week - a function of working too much, and too many things happening, waking up on the wrong side of the bed. and being generally misunderstood.

But I'm watching Closer tonight, and if Jude Law can't get me in a better mood, then I am sorry to say the situation is rather hopeless. So wish me luck, and enjoy your evenings.

...can i start a fitting room for you?...

The elements of the movie Ocean's 12 which can never, ever be justified:

i) Julia Roberts playing Tess playing Julia Roberts.
ii) Bruce Willis playing himself talking to Julia Roberts playing Tess playing Julia Roberts about Sponge Bob Squarepants.
iii) Vincent Cassel two-stepping through a laser field (to a really hot euro track)
iv) Catherine Zeta Jones

What a waste of cheap-movie night. Although I would have been much more disappointed had I paid full price. Tomorrow I will be paying full price for another movie - I hope it is better worth it.

Afterwards

About to leave Rachel at the subway, she's antsy because I made her walk outside (it was really warm). Exasperated she says "well at least can you walk me to Yonge/Bloor so I don't have to worry about transfers and things?"

I sigh.

"Rachel", I say, "look at the street sign above you". She does, and then sheepishly looks down.

"Can we never ever mention this to anyone ever?" she asks, embarassed.
"Sure baby" I promise.

...i was meant for you (you were meant for me)...

ugh. upon rereading, way too technical and depressingly boring. I'm giving all this crap up and going to yoga. Or something. Powers of positive thinking, mm hmm.

Okay -- enough biomedical technobabble you don't need to read, so it was all deleted. The morals of the story:

i) The scientific community is the devil's work. Proof.
ii) I am taking matters into my own hands. Research it is.
iii) My doctor is on drugs. I cite "you have to respect the pain" and showing me a point-and-click intro to surgery tutorial.
iv) This week will be interesting. By which I mean, hell. I will try Javod's "chocolate and bastani" remedy - full of curative benefits galore - and report back to him, green knight that he is.

...bastardo!...

8 hours, 2 glasses of wine and $780.00 later we finally have water. The absentee landlord being... absent, I am currently waiting for the other landlord, his supervisor. Upon his arrival he and I are going to have a chat. We are going to sit down and I will explain to him the abhorrent conditions (i.e. fuel leak in furnace, busted thermostat, exposed back entrance in basement, furnace filter needs replacing) that led to the freezing and subsequent bursting of our pipes. I am going to show him the frozen solid water gauge which is currently in our freezer to show him exactly how it was when we found it; I will draw his attention to the bottom of the gauge which has actually split open from bursting. Among his immediate concerns will be the heating, which is crucial. Then he will contact the city and get us a new water guage, as well as CO2 monitors, which we are lacking.

We will talk about many other things as well - the fact that the upstairs has no heat, there's a long crack down one wall, several malfunctioning windows, a broken trellis on the front porch, and the abominable safety hazard that is the basement. There will be politeness and calm, but our case will be made, concrete steps will be put into place by the landlord to fix every single one of these concerns, barring which Cam said "we'll have him arrested". Which, really, would not be out of line on our parts.

This may not be apparent right now, but let me make it abundantly clear. I am really really pissed off. This has been the shittiest day. Aside from having to deal with this bullshit all fucking day and having to call in off work (which is not cool - either for the money deprivation it leads to or the general leaving the people at work hanging), I can't even enjoy the one inadvertent night off I have because there is the cage of an animal I hate which stinks like rancid piss and thus has to be cleaned, and it appears this has to be done by Janet and myself because everyone else has left. So these two things together = a lot of my time being taken up by shit that isn't my problem and I shouldn't have to deal with = time taken away from other things I have to do which are not going to get done now. Things like laundry, and groceries, and visiting my doctor to get a substitute for Bextra, which by the way I will be needing hardcore in T-minus 3 days.

I am on MSN right now. Some of you may see me. Unless you are very, very certain you have given me no reason to hate you today, do not message me. If you know you have been good, but tend to be annoying or have any doubts as to how well I can deal with you - again, do not message me. There is only one of you on my list who I am waiting for, and this is the only reason why my MSN is even running at all right now, given my current state of communication aversion.

Please ignore this rant - go back to your days, your lives, your holiday enjoyment. I hope you are having holiday enjoyment - I quite obviously am not. Eat a chocolate on my behalf. Maybe down a bottle of Jack Daniels. Whatever does the trick. I will reconvene at a later time.

...like you just don't have a clue...

And the Blue House has no water. That's right, sometime overnight the pipes in this 100-year old heap of bricks froze through and through and we are left high and dry, quite literally it appears. First thing in the morning calling the landlord, as the phone rings taking some minor malicious enjoyment from the though that we are waking him, Janet asks the person on the other end if he is at home --

"No, I'm sorry, he is out of the country".

Excuse me?

Yes that is right. It appears our slummiest of lords has indeed left the country. Backpedalling, asking for the number of landlord #2, the superiour. Finally reach him, finally succeed in explaining. He promises to try and come by sometime today. Try. And come by. Sometime today.

There is a whole day of tasks ahead of me today and the absence of water is impeding them all - there is work, for which I am already ridiculously late, there is shopping for gifts, there is a lunch date with a little brown man. These are all tasks which first and foremost require a shower and a brushing of teeth. Getting my head around a tangible solution in the next 20 minutes is proving difficult.

For the moment:
- getting dressed
- eating Italian milk cake
- running upstairs to see if they have water and if so can I borrow... a cup? how does this work?

...bureau des services fiscaux...

The reason they need to have me down in Oakville more often (besides the quite obvious, that it is my favorite place in the world), is because every time I go, the kids learn important life lessons and my name becomes etched in stories that will be told forever more.

Example: Yesterday, as I was leaving the kitchen, I blew Alessia a goodbye kiss. She then very gracefully blew one back. Dorinda smiled wide and laughed, and it was from her reaction that I realized Alessia had never blown a kiss before. And the very first one she ever did, was to me. That's right.

It's my charm, honestly. Young and old, they just eat it up.

At the moment, will be shortly leaving to catch a train back to my downtown and to work. Which means that I will be home in another... 14 hours.

...allegretto...

After a day with my parents, and already a headache. Shajarian and Sima Bina in the car on full volume, my dads fingertips dancing on the steering wheel. These were the sounds and sights of my long-avoided childhood, and as we drove I was nervous because you know on these days it's the music and not the safe driving that is his priority.

So here we have the first couple of days of my winter holiday. It promises to be busy and bright. It also promises to be easy, simply because I will not let it be anything else. There will be no hard decisions, which implies that there will be no temptations. Any such that I am faced with will be sent right back because I am not in the mood.

Other things I am not in the mood for:
- going to the tailor to hem my pants
- writing the goddamn PID constitution, two months late
- Luca if he happens to be in a bad mood
- an hour in a car with nine people (for this is how the Persians do it)

Something I am in the mood for? Chocolate-raspberry tartuffo. Sssh...

...todos saltam, todos dancam, todos gritam...

Back in September when Merck pulled Vioxx from the market, I remember telling people that Pfizer's Bextra would be the next to go, as another drug in the same class of cox-II inhibitors.

What do we hear today? That there are new warnings being issued about Celebrex (though Pfizer has no plans to recall it), and that researchers are telling doctors to not prescribe Bextra unless under extraordinary circumstances. So it looks like although it isn't off the market yet, it soon will be.

Do we all remember Bextra? That it is my life-line and the only thing which keeps from being often doubled over in pain? So essentially the plan is to go get advance prescriptions before they pull it from the market, so at least I have some on hand for a while.

Pharmacology firms are evil, and people are generally stupid, because everyone is surprised by this, but as soon as I heard "popular drug to be recalled" on the news in the car, I told my dad "bet it's Bextra". At least Merck was man enough to pull it. I hate that it has to be gone, but it's irresponsible of Pfizer to keep it on the market at this point, knowing that it is over-prescribed as it is.

If I have to revert back to Naprosyn I'll shoot myself.

But in other news, (the good variety), I am going to Iran leaving the day after my last final at the end of next semester whenever that should be and coming back May 17.

...the king on bethlehem's plain...

As always happen when I finish finals, I hardly know what to do with myself now. I have nothing that has to be accomplished, so I can watch movies, or read books, or go shopping without feeling guilty but I have this pervasive feeling in the back of my head that says, "No! You have something pressing to do" and that unsettles me because it isn't true.

Soundtrack: A Bare Naked Holidays
Reading: Baudolino by Umberto Eco

I worry to admit this because I'll be called fickle, any manner of things - but it is not going lovely with the boy. He's an artist. In that way that I don't understand because he sees poetry in everything, lives poetry, and I don't get it. So he'll say something poetic and deep (and don't get me wrong, beautiful) about my hair or the turn of my head when I reached over to get a glass, and I'll just want to laugh because it seems ridiculous. In addition to that, he's so caught up in poetry that it's the only thing he talks about, teaching about the different sounds of it. I love it, don't get me wrong, I love learning new things. I love when people are passionate about something. But at the same time, I don't like being lectured to. I want a boyfriend not a professor - so um... something will have to be done because I got home last night and it was as if my regard for him had just been turned off, like a switch.

Don't think I'm horrible, I know some of you will. Don't see it as a pattern with me because you remembered the past - this is how it goes, and you know that. You meet, you spend time, you learn about and see it's not for you, they're not for you.

Alright enough chit-chat, I need to get dressed. I am having lunch with Sheida, my queen of unintentional comedy, who is in town this week. And so, goodnight.

...star of wonder, star of night...

The reason why I have always loved hymns, carols and gospel music is because they are so inherently positive, full of faith. They talk of a guiding hand and unconditional love, it's so easy. I don't accept religion in other capacity for myself, but I do love this music. I think it's beautiful that there is artistic expression to a faith so great. I think it's even more beautiful to have a faith so deep - I wish I felt something like that, but I have never been able to except in a strange, spiritual way I can hardly define. It doesn't coincide with any contemporary religion really, but it's there.

Tonight I have the dry, wrinkled hands of an old woman - a function of dishwashing and forgetting to use lotion - but internally, I feel all the jittery excitement of adolescent attractions. I keep telling myself to slow down, don't get attached, it could all be nothing in a day or two... but I'm hoping.

Walking to the dining hall earlier tonight for study hours, I noticed how beautiful the front campus field is when you turn around and look south - the CN Tower in the distance, Convovation Hall bright with lights, and stars overhead. Whatever else happens in the world, at least there is beauty in it. It's so funny because that is a postive thought you would think, but I'm sad in some fundamental inside part of me and I have no explanation for it. More than that, I have no reason for it, really no reason to be anything but sublimely happy. So there you have it, nothing makes sense in my world right now.

Except maybe the justifications for R. v Butler, which were actually quite sensible. Good on them.

...king forever, ceasing never...

Thinking ahead, the reason I haven't studied at all tonight
Law or teaching?

In the works - a new project, an old passion
Increasing the opportunity for children's literacy in financially strapped Toronto public schools, donation program for books in schools. Inspired by the wonderful third graders I met at Regent Park/Duke of York Public School (I hope to be your teacher's aide next fall).

Paralysing fear
I don't want to disappoint:
- Heather and Ryan, who currently have faith in my abilities: I will not let you down
- the boy, for obvious reasons
- my family, stands to reason

Heavy sigh, and wishing better
Disappointed in:
- a boy who could be so many wonderful things, and just fell short
- the man who stole $5 from a busker this morning at the subway station and ran
- the mother who bought her kids the fourth Harry Potter and the first Gossip Girls on audio book because she didn't want her girls "bored by books, you know how they are"
- myself, for not telling her how ridiculous she was for fear of losing a $140 sale - I say I have bones to pick with capitalism, but I live it everyday in apathetic disregard

...i am the book man (a reference book?)...

I had a sappy Christmas spirit type post, incorporating the sight of softly falling snow and twinkling stars, hershey's kisses and cheery smiles, a manager who tells you "great job yesterday", and how you have to let the holiday spirit in and all that bullshit we all want to feel but hardly ever do. Then I got home and found an email, and then I was like a balloon when the air has just been let out of it. Deflated, like that. But not so bad, because I'm smart enough to not have had it that full to begin with.

I love it when I'm equated to an inanimate object. Because that's exactly the kind of "you're using me" email it was. By which I mean you're using me.

The only thing making me feel just a little bit better is "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Sarah McLachlan and the Barenaked Ladies.

...i am the book man (coo coo cachoo)...

I'm probably going to regret this at some point later in the day, maybe around 6pm or so when I'm nearing the part of my shift which is almost over but still a long ways to go and it feels longer and longer till you almost can't stand it - so yes, I'm definately probably going to regret this at some point later in the day, because I am just waking up right now.

I crashed into bed at 10:30, only to wake up at 3:30. This was only partially deliberate. I knew I wanted to wake up earlier, but I thought maybe around 6 or so, and get some studying in. Suddenly I jerk awake and sleep is a non-happening again, and here I am awake. No one on MSN, and when that happens that's when you feel really alone in the world. I mean, I could be the only person awake in the whole world right now. Couldn't I?

A few things to mention:
i) I love my boss - my "big" boss, the boss lady. Love her. Chatted with her about kids' books for almost an hour in kids yesterday, recommended some books to her. We talked about how the department needs some changes, organization, sprucing up. She says she wants my input. Later, heard her telling the GM that I'm wonderful, la la la.

ii) The thing about starting something with someone this week is that it is making studying for my law and morality very very difficult. Except now for the next two days I really am being studious and responsible and so I am going to have no contact until Thursday at which point he'll pick me up post-exam. He gets to be my celebration, and such.

iii) Did you know? - If you work a stat holiday, you get paid double time and a half. Boxing Day is going to be *good* to me this year.

I know I usually blog more than I have been this week, but this is the general expanse of my day: wake up at 8am, eat breakfast, go to work all day, done at 8:30pm, go to library/extended study hours at Burwash and study, get home 11 or midnight. That's a very long day to have on a continuous basis and at that point you hate anything that requires an iota of brain power. So, minimal blogging until done with craziness.

...i sing holy holy...

The BBC has an article this morning about Arian, the first Iranian pop band to play publicly in Iran, allowed by the government.

I'm glad of this, it's a big step for Iranian music which has been stifled incessently since the revolution. The young people especially needed something like this. I only hope it's a sign of an emerging trend to permit more pop bands to play in Iran, and not just an isolated example of "bread and circuses" to keep the youth entertained to not cause so much trouble.

...Janet modified: what you've said I have (not) heard before...

"So if I asked you to run away with me to New York right now, would you do it?" he asks, without preamble. "Sure, I love New York". "You're missing the point... what if it was another city? Omaha, Nebraska? To run away with me, would you do it?" Heart skipping a beat, "Absolutely, always". "Always? I like the sound of that, confidence of undying love, you know".

Later.

"When's the next available day and night you have?" I think for a second, "I think the only night I'm not working next is the 20th" "Too far away - what are you doing tomorrow night?" "This week is horrible, law exam on Thursday I'll be cramming day and night". "When is your exam done on Thursday?" he asks. I reply around 9, to which he says "Okay, don't make plans. I mean, finding airplane tickets to New York on such short notice will be tough, but I'll do it, just for you".

He was joking about the tickets, incidentally. But not about the Thursday.

And just like that, our heroine is (dare I say it) - dating. Good call on wearing the hair down, pat on back. Do you know that thrill when someone you have liked for over a month, this incredible genuine funny cultured guy who wouldn't know a head game or an ego trip if they teamed up and bit him on the nose, likes you too? And you're not sure exactly why, but you're thrilling nonetheless, (edit) despite an accompanying fear that you will disappoint?

...do not operate heavy machinery...

This is a tragedy.

This is also all Google's fault. What are they doing caching old web pages into their memory even after they've been deleted. I am such a loser. LOSER.

So. Reading some old entries from my old blog, circa last year. The tone is gushy, the element high school. I was quite probably the dorkiest thing on the planet. Someone told me that they read the blog last year and somehow got an impression that I was hot. What the fuck? No. Because see, I'm reading it now and the only impression I am getting is 12. So unless that's the kind of thing that floats your boat...

I wish I had known then what I know now - namely, if you are going to talk about the cuteness of a boy, do not use full name.

At this point I'm going to go hide my head in the sand for a millenia or two.

...the earrings are in kenya?...

The world according to me:

As any girl will tell you, there is more than one plane of existence. There is the here and now, there is the floating meander stage, and there is Cloud 9. As of today, I have surpassed all three and am somewhere up around Cloud 32. Because his favorite thing in the world is long, dark, curly hair (which I have in spades), so by extension, his favorite thing in the world is me. Appropriate sparks are flying, and things start to move.

Also, have discovered the Secret to Men. They are inherently simple creatures, underneath it all. Not far removed from the three year-olds to whose parents I sell books on a daily basis. And just as little boys like the interactive toys the best, I have learned that the bigger boys like the interactive everything else. Accordingly, my black sweater with the row of buttons all the way down one side and sleeve scored a big hit. It's like Christmas, you unwrap (unbutton) and look! a surprise.

Other happenings and doings-on:
i) Dinner with Tara at delicious Indian place we know, she came early so she could see the boy and give the Official friendship seal of approval. Seal of approval was got, and how.

ii) Saw my girl, she has Hell Day on Monday hence the missing in action. But everything is swell and I will see her again Monday.

iii) Ran into Olivier and had a nice walk and chat with him. He reminded me of a time when I had blogged his impending death at my hands for allegedly hurting a friend of mine. Oh, those were the days... He is a sweet boy, that one. And a smart cookie.

iv) Working tomorrow from 11-3, then 5-11. Will then be going home to collapse and die. Bronchitis appears to be getting worse, and antibiotics have odd aftertaste. Muscles in back ache without Morgan to give massage, but my managers love me and gave me more hours. We sold out of Stella, hope to get more. I bought lime green nailpolish, but am out of Q-Tips. Some of these are obviously just reminders to myself, please disregard.

...je veux etre la tour...

At this point I am so tired and sick and braindead that the only legal point I have become fixated on is stare decisis and the fact that I can't seem to remember what it means. So, in my current condition, ask me how I am supposed to differentiate the opposing statements of Justices O'Connor and Scalia from Lawrence v. Texas, then morally rationalize one. Or correctly answer any of the other long-winded questions that are likely to appear on my exam in 5 days.

The seeds of my current discontent:
i) Working long hours, the only thing about it that disturbs me is the feeling that once I go to work I cease to exist in the world. Talking to a friend about wanting to do something yesterday, come home today to find that they all have done it without me. Wondering if the world can open up and swallow me now, because then at least I will have a legitimate reason for having ceased to matter.

ii) My best girl isn't talking to me. This could be a case of exam woe and over-burden, but I'm not used to going two weeks without contact. Hell I'm not used to going a few days without contact and not having one of us call to see if the other is alive. I have made three such calls in the past week and a half to no avail. And I am still enough of the life reject + book nerd from elementary school to wonder "is it something I did?" I hate that feeling. It's like social paralysis with a pinch of nausea.

iii) Christian enlisted in the US something-or-other-to-do-with-military. Fucking turd, I hate him (which is a lie - I love him, as we know but we don't him a) hurt, or b) fighting for the wrong cause)

iv) What for two days was a sexy voice a la Phoebe on Friends when she got sick and got a phlegmy, sultry voice has turned into a gaspy staticy excuse for vocal sounds that can't get a sentence through without coughing up a past life.

...indiro 150x250...

I have a theory about doctors and pharmacists, and the relationship therein. The way it works is that doctor's give prescriptions, the most expensive ones and to thank them, the newly-richer pharmacists give kickbacks, either in the way of surplus revenue or in sexual favours. This can be the only thing to account for why a 7-day dose of a common and not super antibiotic put me back $64.84 out of pocket.

The weekend looks good. It has elements of the boy, extended study hours at Burwash with Tara, chick movie night with Janet, crepe-alicious es-crepe-ades with Lith, and a Phone Call. Hot chocolate will be had in droves.

Are you children feeling Merry yet? Get to it.

...i am the captain of this ship...

Steroidy cough medicine = really trippy dreams.

Roger Howarth was my history teacher and, as would happen if he were ever in my real world, was promptly slept with. A classmate named Sebastien St. James went grocery shopping for me, and bought cooked beets and raw pasta. I danced in a post-modern production called IODA. Then, without skipping a beat, performed plastic surgery on Shulman, and my brother lost $4 in a bet.

...Eluard, Eluard, les mots...

Recounting the stories from staff dinner to Janet, I don't think either Scandalous or I remembered to mention the most important thing, the One which made us go Hmm, about politics and who's heading there and the utter lack of surprise. I'm not surprised, like I said, but this is not a bad thing. In fact, I think it's a good thing. Good to the point that I would volunteer to work on the campaign.

I miscounted my dosage tonight, as I did last night. Because I lose track of time and think it's been hours, when it's been less than one really and so I end up taking twice the dose in the one time, and then there's the weakness and dizziness, and other general mal-a-l'aise.

Quel annoyance.

...a modern fairy tale (as told by a suburban princess living in the Real World)...

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived in a shiny silver castle on a white cloud, up in a bubbly world somewhere up there. A chic and stylish young thing, though borderline naive, she had a lovely pair of pink Guess shades which lent everything around a rosie hue. Life really was made up of raindrops and lollipops, and people are every bit as good as you hoped they would be.

There came a morning when she woke to a bright shining sky, no different than the day before. Nothing to make her think the day would be any more or less ordinary than usual. As ever a "babe in the woods", she donned her red cape and headed outside intending to go feed the deer and rescue a fallen sparrow or two. Without warning, she nearly stepped on a bright green tree frog sitting haphazardly on her front step. "Oh what a dear tree frog" she said, as she placed an affectionate kiss on its brow. When he didn't turn into a prince, she reacted with a contemptuous, disgruntled little kick. But readers, if you have ever tried to kick in heels, you know that it's not the best of ideas. Thrown off her rhythm, her balance upset, she tripped instead on his slimy surface and tumbled forward and off the fluffy cloud she called home. Down, down, down she fell for what seemed like 3 and a half months and in the process, lost her pink shades. Getting increasingly dizzier, she began to realize that as a princess, especially an incredibly intelligent and capable princess, she could call the shots. This epiphany took almost two hours but in the end, she was able to act in the proactive, change-effecting way of a truly enlightened royal.

"Stop, just stop" she cried, and the world listened. The world bowed and conceded.

She stopped falling and the world righted itself. Balance restored, she stood warily but firmly on her Chinese Laundry tweed pumps and looked about her. It was a world different from her white clouds and daffodills, a trendy yet eclectic neighbourhood with strange characters and even stranger fast food joints, but she thought she could make it work here. Always gracious to a fault, she wouldn't even let her Persian Revolutionary guard (decked out in requisitional garb: Talulah skirt and Chanel sunglasses) go after the tree frog. It wasn't his fault after all, he just hopped onto the wrong doorstep, plus it was a cute frog. Instead, with a flick of her hair and a conquering glint in her eye, she headed to the nearest late-night coffee house for a non-fat decaf latte and a complimentary mint stick. As he handed her the coffee, the boy behind the counter slipped her his phone number...

...jazz can eat itself...

Waking up to spoken word/trip hop poetry in my inbox. Counting down the minutes/hours/cups of coffee until tomorrow night, la la la.

I think I need more culture. I read the email, and remembered my reaction to the three one-act plays a couple weeks ago, and realized that for the most part the first word to come to mind is "wierd". My mind needs more open.

I mean honestly, he even made poetry out of anthropology. That is a commendable feat indeed.

For today:
- staff dinner party
- mona lisa smile
- to read: the dylanist
- to read: law text (probably should be prioritized)
- do nails -- pink

...it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing...

Talking to Farnam about my latest bodily conflict, by which I mean stupid uncalled-for illness: "Be careful", she says, "my [edit: great-] grandmother died from bronchitis".

I jokingly reply that if I die, my wardrobe is hers. She gets giddy "Awwww! I will take good care and cherish". Which stunned me because truthfully it wasn't the reply I was expecting. I wanted something along the lines of "don't worry, you won't die. My grandmother was old". Alas...

I saw the boy today and he was lovely. Lovely lovely lovely. Waited for him post his exam, and in the meantime mingled in the Christmas Tea with Vic president + alumni + faculty + other preppy go-getter (...right) students. Mingled and was cheery because I looked cute*, even was nice to people who didn't deserve. Well, to most people that didn't deserve. In one case, I may have smirked in a less than nice fashion, but that is one girl who will never be redeemed, ever. That wasn't the point though, the point was the boy and how he walked down the stairs with Italian breeze and a debonair smile. "Come on" he says with a directional nudge of his head, "let's get out of here".

I waannnttt. The more I spend time, the more others fall short, the more I want him for me and only me.

So earlier I was talking to my ex, and it was almost as if he had this checklist of conversation topics, and those were the only topics that stuck around in his head after too many blows of the football or whatever.

Hey-how-are-you's? Check.
School? Check.
Housemates inquiry? Check.
Will you be attending [insert latest Vic sports event here]? Check.

And then... he was done, nothing else to say. You could almost see the blank dawn over his face. I had to wonder if he had always been like that and I had just missed the glaring evidence of the fact that he's incapable of pulling a conversation? And what? Did you think I was going to do the conversation-effort thing? Oh please. So instead, I laughed a little inside and went to chat with Ben who was much more entertaining. And then the boy came down the stairs in the way he did, and all else was forgotten anyway. Damn those Italians. Damn them all.

P.S. The beard is gone. On the face, I'm glad, but secretly I will miss it a teensy bit. It was a little more... grownupish, bikerish, hotterish.

* Pink angora sweater and black pinstripe trousers, black pointy shoes and ICE purse, soft pink. The pearls. THE pearls. Yup, those ones.

...dit-moi si ca blesse...

I missed bronchitis. Really. For the past 6 months I'd been thinking man, I really miss the racking cough, and the fever, and the dependence on a tripped out drug the potency of which actually makes me sick. I really miss not being able to breathe.

Alright, we're done. I'm going home. My anthropology exam notwithstanding (it will have to rearrange itself), I am going home. Maybe I will blog, but maybe I will not. If I don't, it isn't because I don't love you but because my lungs have conspired to keep us apart.

...why do these things come up on exam nights...

Here's to distractions and unsettlement. Cheers to the anthropology exam that I will falter tomorrow night. Salute, to life in all its kicks in the face.

Notes on the day:
i) Philosophy Ben gave me his email. Last day of class, whoo!
ii) My princess crown made from balloon is still full of air. They usually don't last this long. I think Rob filled it with love and not hot air. Hahaha... oh I crack myself up. Get it? Or maybe it's hot air, and this is just the irony of it all?
iii) I'm learning Part II of Moonlight.
iv) McCain deep and delicious cake. Sweet heaven.

...one missed step, one slip before you know it...

Though I've tried, I've fallen...

For the third time in the past month I met up with my past for lunch, a catch up. The fact that chemistry persists over time and distance knocks the breath out of me, because I could want him as much as ever. I do want him as much as ever, physically at least. But as to everything else, that at least seems to have dissipated. Or at least I'm thinking more clearly this time around. Which is why, when he mentions today that maybe we should give it another go, I know without much thought and anxiety what my answer will be.

I have sunk so low

The thing that stuns me the most is that it was three years ago, because then I automatically start running the math in my head, and it occurs to me that I was 17. And what in the world was a 17-year old doing with a guy that much older... not even withstanding the question of what a guy like that was doing with a 17 year old? Oddly I felt older then. That summer was such a step out of real time - living on my own, another city, another world. I felt more independent, more like a grownup.

I have messed up

Now I am a Student, not even playing at grownup whereas he is a Grownup, full-time job, and all that. I have Student issues, papers to think about, exams, and student life is a self-contained bubble that leaves no room for anything on the outside really.

It's funny because the guy sitting across the table from me today was someone I barely recognized. The touch was familiar, and the scent, the body. But what I remember doesn't coincide with what I saw. Because what I remember is an obsession with old CD's (700 of them), a red collared shirt of Sandman 3 of 7 days in the week, a dirty apartment, playing guitar to his roommates bass, sketchy beer and too much coffee. All things that screamed "boy-ish, still growing". Today was too... clean cut. Which is more scary than not.

Better I should know

Maybe I'm more grown up now than I thought though, because I'm not going to do this again. Me at 17 would have jumped at this. For months afterwards I wanted to be back there. It was only last year that I took the picture out of the frame, front and centre on my desk.

So, good. It's a "no" then? We've decided?

...her mocking smile said it all...

www.safetyschool.org

www.gradeinflation.org

Funny things from Amy, the Dartmouth queen. I want to go to Dartmouth - they're the cool Ivy League. Snazzy and fun, where the frats are classy and throw cocktails instead of keggers.

Reading people's blogs, comments this morning, remembering reading Rob's slightly raunchy comic, my guy friends discussions when we're at a bar... it occurs to me that I am way too innocent for all of this. I feel like life needs a parental advisory sticker or something, and then I would avoid it.

I'm relaxing so nicely in my room, candles lit, Suzanne Vega playing in the background - you would think I would be tense. You would think with an exam in an hour and another tomorrow I would be a little less mellow.

You would think.

...the culture concept...

Yes, I definately love being berated like a 2-year old. Fine. In the future, no enthusiasm of any kind - just the emergence of the Ice Queen, a la Bridget Jones and Farnam after her clandestine staff-room smooching.

I spent a lovely calm evening with my parents, eating Swiss Chalet and chatting and getting me soup because I am sick and they took care of me. Then my mother and I went shopping - among the purchases:

- gray jap socks, thick and comfy and slouchy and rachel-like
- the hottest black/white newsprint negligee and matching bikinis, from Joe Boxer
- a charcoal gray peacoat with black bullet buttons and a hood
- black thick wool trousers
- beige plaid wool-blend trousers that are so soft they are unbelievable. I don't want to wear them, I just want to snuggle them.

I was so excited because I received a phone call from the new Dr. Anahita, and then Amrit showed up at the most inconvenient time to go over anthropology so I had to leave her. But I will talk to you in a couple days, love.

There's a slim slim slim chance that the wonders of nepotism will land me a administration/clerking job with a law firm in Toronto. Fingers crossed, salt over shoulder. That kind of thing.

...here, sickie sickie sickie...

We have a problem.

I woke up this morning at 8 to get dressed and go see Dr. Harrison. I did not make it there as I was a) intimidated by the snowstorm outside, and b) facing a situation wherein my body did not want to move. By "did not" I mean "was unable". Therefore, I haven't yet gotten out of this bed yet, all day. I feel horrible and cranky and ill. I want tea and drugs and my mother. And sympathy phonecalls. And possibly some soup. Maybe a little mouse named Despereux.

So looking at the last 5 posts, I notice they are all without comment, and I feel lonely in the wide expanse that is cyberspace. You know what to do.

I used the time wisely to finish my law and religion essays completely, and then join facebook. To which I have since become addicted. Shit, another unnecessary distraction.

...wear the white for peace, love...

For as long as I was at Thornhill, Shulman had insisted on having a school-wide memorial assembly every December 06 to honour the women who were murdered at Ecole Polytechnique in Montreal 15 years ago. He fought for it in the face of our idiot administration who did not see the point.

Every year we also spearheaded the Walk Against Male Violence, a massive region-wide fundraiser run by Thornhill to raise money for shelters for abused women, like the Yellow Brick House and Covenent House.

It really surprised me this morning to see that The Toronto Star had only one brief mention of the massacre and memorial in its online paper today, hidden in the sidebar. The article was also remarkably brief, outlining some events to be held around the city today, but never once even mentioning the names of the women who were killed that day.

Anne-Marie Edward
Anne-Marie Lemay
Annie St-Arneault
Annie Turcotte
Barbara Daigneault
Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz
Genevieve Bergeron
Helene Colgan
Maryse Laganiere
Maryse LeClair
Maud Haviernick
Michele Richard
Nathalie Croteau
Sonia Pelletier

Many Canadian students might recognize immediately the name of the shooter, Marc Lepine. But it's really the names of these women that shouldn't be forgotten. If we forget, we risk letting something like this happening again.

Wear your white ribbons today -- you can get them at many stores and coffeehouses. Wear them realising that we are the only ones who can stop violence against women from occurring.

...it seems so unfair...

It's definately a tough call.

Do we blast him for slipping back into the blogosphere without so much as a heads up, or forgive him for using Smiths lyrics?

Although, personally, I think he should have gone with the Decemberists lyrics he once hinted at. They are *clearly* the superiour band.

...ish a toof hug...

i) "This is a really great argument. I'm glad you made it".

So in the midst of the criticisms, I get good comments too. This made me happy, and I felt I wasn't a complete idiot. Yay to finished essays, and my friends who are essentially the best in the world.

ii) Me and Sebastien became fast friends today -- he is an adorable 4-year old who spent a lot of time in my section today after three times wandering away from his mother. The first time, she noticed and went berserk up in fiction, before I saw him curled in a corner of storytime reading Polar Express. The next two times, she didn't notice until either I or the manager on duty walked Sebastien up to her, flirting with the cashier and browsing coffee table books.

There are some people who should not be parents. I mean it, I think we should have licenses. This woman was so obnoxious and cold, and careless. When we told her to keep an eye on her son, she said "Oh it's alright, we had an arrangement. He would walk around for 10 minutes, then meet me here." I'm sorry. Did I miss something? Does your 4-year old know how to tell time, and have a watch? What's to stop him from walking out of the store, or someone walking out with him? It took me two minutes to become friends with him and chat with him about books. If I'd told him to come with me for some ice cream, he would have. What if someone else had done that, and taken him from the store? YOU STUPID WOMAN either keep your legs shut, or fucking be a parent.

iii) A random customer told me I was beautiful. And it made me happy and I felt special... then Rob said "yeah he said that to Sara upstairs too... I think he's just a creeper". Fine. Be that way.

iv) My throat hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts. I want a doctor and drugs and more drugs and sleep, and possibly some green tea, if only I had honey.

...smell of roses and cocaine...

My body took command last night, and, vetoeing all my wishes to do otherwise, made me sleep for 11 hours, waking up at 1pm. Truthfully I planned on falling asleep earlier than 2, but in the middle of watching War and Peace I got distracted by Rob's comic strip and before I knew it I had read the entire thing and it was 2 hours later. Then I got Farnam reading it, so funny. Quoting lines back and forth on MSN.

As a result, I don't really have time to write anything today, so I will just say that I am leaving now to eat leftover Chinese, get dressed, and go to work till 11:30 tonight. Where I will be lonely because I'm closing Kids alone tonight.

Kisses to those who want-em,
The Sparkle Girl (I'll get tired of this soon I promise)

...spinning off the boardwalk...

Sometimes I create a sentence and wonder if anyone has ever sequenced those same words in the same order, in the same context before?

Reasons why I love my work:

5) My manager asks if I want more hours
4) Morgan told me I have a beautiful smile.
3) I spent a half hour discussing Bushisms with a customer, who then bought three books.
2) I got an I-thankyou
1) Rob told me I sparkle

Law has been made mine. Religion also. Next on this quest for academic proprietorship (read: domination) is Anthropology.

Much love,
The Sparkle Girl

...hot motel, stuffy inside...

I'm a little embarrassed to confide this to you, because the general consensus will be "Oh Sanam, so naive and innocent. How endearing".

As of Wednesday when school ends for the winter break, I am volunteering my time... at Canada Post. To be an elf. For Christmas, and to answer the letters of the little kids who write to Santa and need an answer, so that they don't stop believing in Christmas!

So when you write to Santa, the official address is:

Santa Claus
The North Pole
HOH OHO
Canada

I love how everyone acknowledges that Santa lives in Canada, synonmous with snow and cold things. So the Canada Post gets these letters from everywhere, from all around the world, addressed to Santa and they end up at Canada Post, and for the month of December they have actual "elves" (the rumour has it, complete with green uniform and jolly red hat) and they answer all of these letters so that the kids know that Santa got their letter.

Sometimes the letters are about things like abuse or divorcing patterns, and all of these letters are given to counsellors who then decide if intervention is necessary, and write tailored responses. I love the Canada Post! You have to understand, I used to write to Santa religiously, ok? And I'd get a letter back from Santa saying that he'd try his best to give me the "Super-hair Barbie" I asked for, or whatever, and then (and this part is INGENIOUS) I would get all excited and show the letter to my parents ("he DOES exist... SO THERE") who would think, ahh she wants a Barbie. Do you see how incredibly intelligent this is? And then for those kids who asked for ponies, Santa's off the hook because he said "he'd try his best" and the parents know it's okay if the best they can do is a bright pink My Little Pony (no I'm not speaking from experience. I would never do something so silly as... ask for a pony. Right).

Secret confession: I already wrote my letter to Santa this year. It would be so funny if I got my own to answer. That would make me laugh.

To the inevitable question: No it doesn't lose any of its charm, knowing that a volunteer or staff member from Canada Post is behind the letter. Because I know that behind THAT is the general manager of Canada Post... who is Santa Claus.

So there.

...knowing that the world is round...

Something that is funny:

[the lovely] says: (11:58:22 PM)
   so when you said you'd meet me at one at indigo, you really meant... no?
farnam * says: (11:58:31 PM)
   OMG
farnam * says: (11:58:40 PM)
   I AM SO SORRY
farnam * says: (11:58:47 PM)
   omg
farnam * says: (11:58:51 PM)
   I AM SOOO SORRRRRYYYYY
farnam * says: (11:59:03 PM)
   i didnt leave the house today, i vegged at home
farnam * says: (11:59:05 PM)
   i am so sorry
farnam * says: (11:59:17 PM)
   i should never make plans when i'm dying of sleep

I forgive her. She's persian and gorgeous and dresses well -- how could I not? Also, I went shopping instead so I wasn't *very* sad.

Then she started talking about fast cars, and knives, and circuses... and somewhere around here I lost all thread of the conversation. The thing about MSN is that you end up talking about three different things at once, so even when you're talking to one person, it's really three conversations, and on a good day I can barely follow one conversation... do you see the problem?

2169 words and counting. It is coming along, but I feel as if it will go over. By which I mean I know it will. Before the end of tomorrow there will be three people who will receive this essay in their inboxes, and I only hope they love me enough to please review and edit and tell me I'm a) brilliant, or b) not so much, but constructively and with guidance.

Have you noticed lately that I have developed a love for words in bold? It's because I think it makes me cooler.

...reclaimed by a cute girl and/or the CIA...

When in the midst of "crunch time", c'est a dire law essays + religion papers + french finals + anthropology midterms, and also juggling work, and having given up even on the concept of having a life (i.e. the boy has not been seen for 1 week tomorrow) -- when in the midst of all this it is definately not advisable to pull stunts like falling asleep immediately following work from sheer exhaustion (this is circa 1pm) and waking up at quarter to 7. C'est exactement ca qu'on appele une grande perte du temps.

Ashley tells me that I live my life according to script, as if I'm starring in my own movie. I could probably accept that but it leads to fears of being type-cast. Am I unique/special at all, or just your typical silly schoolgirl? And if I am in a movie, am I directing or merely starring? Because one implies creative control and the possibility for change. The other, well not too much hope there, except my name in bright lights, and fame is fleeting anyway, tenuous.

There is a chance the following is only in my head and more than a little self-important:

So when in communications with party A, I say something that he apparently takes more seriously than it is, which is ridiculous because this is all his fault anyway, I'm just playing by the rules he laid out. So party A says stop, as in a telegram. Which isn't to say there's any actual declaration of finality, just a cease in the communications. Until I eventually start it up again, and it follows until the next time I say something sketchy. And it's this pattern see? I hate patterns, I hate ruts, and I hate ditto. I hate inconsistencies, I hate hypocricy, I hate little boys, and I hate lima beans. Even when they're salted, like the Persian way. So if you are Party A, you will call immediately and say "I Party A will be wise and mature and realise you are the most amazing person I know, and I should be only so lucky to have you forgive me time and time again, and I will behave myself, and possibly buy you something pretty. Like a flower. Or a chocolate-banana lollipop because they are cool".

And then I might be gracious enough to say "well... okay". But without a part or all of the preceeding statement, there will be NO forgiveness, NO re-establishment of ties, NONE. Forever and ever, amen.

This law paper is never going to get finished. Yeah... you saw that too? Hmm... this could be a predicament.

...picasso on my wall and a cat on my head...

I have all the ingredients to make a great essay: arguments and appropriate rhetoric, ice tea and a full bag of popcorn. The only thing missing is knowing how to properly cite quotations taken from law cases. Any helpers?

I took a break somewhere in the middle to paint my nails deep purple.

The president invited me to his "Christmas Tea" on Wednesday. It ends at the same time as my anthropology exam begins. I am going to go anyway, and hope I will remember to leave on time. How can I miss such a noble opportunity to network? Yay nepotism, and all that. Also, last time they sang Christmas carols and this will provide me the opportunity to steal their song sheets, so that we can use them next week when we start caroling the neighbourhood to raise money for Joe's legacy. Don't you love how it all comes together?

Do you ever have this sense of inevitability, that no matter how you rationalize and aim for discipline, something is going to present and you aren't going to stop yourself, and you'll be in a fine mess? But you know that it's going to happen? How do you stop that exactly, how do you change the course of impending rash decisions?

I tried to take a swig of my ice tea just now, throwing it back with reckless abandon. Missed and am now wearing most of it. Also, realizing with each passing day that I am increasingly blind.

...removing the crusts (read: wallowing in 5)...

Ran into someone I knew on the way home. By which I mean, he chased me down across the field of front campus. Said how he sees me everywhere, it seems but I never see him and this is the first opportunity he's had to say Hi. It was all I could do not to say "umm no... I've always seen you too. I just don't like you. So I leave". The thing is, my acquaintance radar is actually spot on, most of the time. If you think "oh she just didn't see me", that's only true some times. But more likely than not, i noticed you first and am deliberately moving in the other direction.

So really there are two options here:
a) If you think I really didn't see you, chase me down and grab my attention because I'm usually in the clouds anyway.
b) Think carefully about whether I have reason to love you or hate you, and then decide whether to chase me down and grab my attention.

Either way, the onus is on you, because frankly, I just don't care enough. Unless I really really love you, in which case I do the chasing.

My french exam ran away from me. It was scared. To which I say, damn straight. Clearly my wit, connaissance de la langue, and charming, incomprehensible story lines are getting too amazing for their own good. I must be stopped.

The other thing is that "arrrrggghhhhhh". That is the sound of a very very frustrated woman who is not being listened to. And by listened to i mean, I've been saying (read: implying OBVIOUSLY) the same thing for the past 3 months to no avail, and fuck man, I want avail. I have a hundred and five million problems with this situation which is so easily made perfect but it is not in my hands, and for the love of my aunt Francis it should be. We are going to have to be proactive about this. Remember the whole thing about me + proactive = unstoppable? Let's try for that.

...collins robert paperback french dictionary...

I have a feeling that Farnam and I should run the world, jointly. The reason I say this is because we can have diverging viewpoints, and still do our thing.

Re: the having of one's opinions without resorting to name calling + the fact that black/white is not the only way -- read Farnam's latest point and realize why you're all silly.

I lied, she should run the world and I will be the groupie. She's smarter than me, and more stylish.

...the Nirvana box set...

Merriem-Webster announced "blog" as the most often looked up and requested word of 2004 for its dictionaries. In response, it will be including it in it's 2005 edition of the dictionary. Definately a sign of how fast blogging is expanding into the mainstream.

In response to the question "What do you recommend for a student staying up all night to study" that I asked of the Second Cup server, she gives me a Red Eye.

Coffee + chocolate mocha + espresso = a failed, but failed with STYLE and ENJOYMENT, french exam

...mighty fine only got you somewhere half the time...

I am so clever and witty, that I think how is this possible? How can so much inherent genius fit inside this tiny Persian frame? And I don't understand, but I think it's because my mom is a really really nice lady, and was blessed. With me. Is what I'm implying.

My brain feels bruised and violated, and in my mind has the appearance of fried mash. I think about this paper, and the convoluted mess that are my arguments and I want to cry.

To make myself feel better, I am wearing a mini-skirt today.