Thursday, December 20, 2007


WEll, my references all passed the test, I passed the interview, and now sat through training.

The instructor was FABULOUS! So witty and obviously in love with what he does; the training was perfect (exactly what I needed, and not one thing more then necessary)and he made it all relevent, light-handed (even with some more sobering topics), and humerous.

I highly recommend volunteering.

Other then that, my CPO designation will have to wait till january. Darnit, and I had those buisness cards all made up;
"Michelle Ernst, BA. CPO. Solider of fortune and Outrageous liar"

Last big thing being christmas. Can't wait for family to arrive, then the holidays really start!

haiku two

painful cord
no sword could ever

"Thief" he says; say I,
"Think not of value judgements,
but of needs met."

The bright sky’s eye sees
Our bodies wrapped into twine
The world sees one eye

lucky cricket
tangled bed sheets
one and two are i

Tuesday, December 18, 2007


try out my hand
clapping out the syllables
make me sweat

sun on fat drops
lick the water pavement
perfect peace

we paused for stars
short hours later
metal dead

change and hope
glass and fruit
chew carefully

Tuesday, December 11, 2007


Christmas soon!

A pithy thought to mull over mulled cider:
Do you ever have difficulty figuring out if a question is rhetorical or not?

Seriously though, there is one saying which never fails to confuse me;
"That which does not kill me, makes me stronger."
Where do bubble-baths fit in? They don't really do either. Or chocolate chip cookies? I propose a change,
"That which does not make me stronger, kills me."
In the respect that if something is not helping you improve, or grow, it is slowly contributing to your downfall.
Boy. I feel smart today. :)

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet

New novel I'm reading. Very well done.

Sometimes, when things strike me, and change, it doesn't ever really feel like I'm changing. It feels like I'm being reminded, remembering. Like a dance I was taught years and years ago, and my body is just remembering the steps. Being introduced again to an old friend, falling into the easy pattern of familarity. Like life is one long connection, the circles coming full, making sense only later. I wonder what else this dance holds?

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

If comics are any indication...

The thing I'm going to like the most about the future is the food.
No, I'm serious. Read "Transmetropolitan" and tell me some of that food doesn't sound crazy good. Or My second favoritest webcomic, "Templar, Arizona":

"I'd like a coke, please."
"Honey Garlic, Cayenne Chocolate, or Yogurt Plum?"

Oh yes.
Perhaps it is simply that I can not identify with the subject's lifestyle, it being so strange from my own, but Eating is somewhat universal. I cannot guess what it tastes like, but I can speculate.

Maybe I'm just writing this post because I believe everyone should read Transmet and Templar.
Oh well.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Enough is the hell enough.

I work nights. It's true. I am up from midnight to eight in the morning.
I am also heavily involved in several other endeavors in my life including Kung Fu, Police volunteering, and Secretary of animethon. I'm pretty busy. I don't usually get a lot of sleep. Sleeping during the day makes it especially tempting to cut short my sleeping hours to get more things done during daylight hours.

When, however, did it become socially acceptable, even considered "a joke", to tell me I look tired?!
I don't tell people when they look ignorant, or hungry, or anything else wrong, but at least once a day a person I don't know will say, "You look tired.".

I actually make the effort to do my hair, make sure my uniform is clean and tidy, and make sure my manner is bright, and pleasant.

So Why the hell do people tell me this?!

And how the hell do I respond?! My usual response is, "I'm fine, thank you, how are you?" But I think perhaps it is time for a crusade against this rude casual remark. I wish I could respond with, "and you look stupid, but in a minute both of us will look angry."

Siiigh. What I wouldn't give for a mandatory "social graces" course.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Flames to dust, Lovers to Friends, why do all good things come to an end?

STOP TRIVIALIZING THE LADY SHORTCAKE! SHE DOES NOT ACCEPT YOUR PUNY ATTEMPTS AT HUMOR! Her reign will rule over all in a flood of sugary tears and gnashing of cavity filled teeth! At her right hand, Mistress Muffin will march forth with a licorice fist to crush the uprising! The seas will boil to deep fry all who resist!Their families will be baked in the heat of the desert, then frosted and devoured! The world shall be razed, and used as a mixing bowl to further refine the treacle mined in the pits of other planets! All shall work until they are consumed! Then you will know the true power of Strawberry! AND DO NOT SQUEEZE THE PROPHETESS CHELLE! SHE IS THE BEARER OF THE WORD MADE ICING! DAMNIT STOP LAUGHING!

On a more serious and happy note; I have an interview with the police force for Saturday to determine my suitability for volunteering with them. They have even started to pohone my references. I'm so excited!!

Thursday, November 08, 2007

By the pricking of my thumbs,

These past few days have been running. Constant running.

I seem to have fallen off the edge of my little paper world, and I'm not sure where to find it again, twisting in this void.

I sense a looming something. I have that feeling of change, like glass and fruit in my mouth. I'm not sure what, or where.

There was a pinpointable moment, when I missed my connection bus day before yesterday, when a violin string was prepped, and now it is just spooling out, gaining in tension, and all I can do is be on guard for when it snaps.

Perhaps it is the change in weather that effects my mood. The snow makes me think logically, but angrily. A sort of frigid villiany. I am happy, don't mistake me, but also aggressive. Like a flame-filled ice-cube.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007


I almost forgot.
Othello, the ballet.
Brilliant costumes colored in pink, red, maroon, burgundy, gold, a set which was perfect in it's simplicity featuring airy swaths of fabric suggesting eveything from walls to stormy skies, and the choreography was pleasant. The dancer playing Iago was perfectly heinous. A true villian from his black jerkin to the tip of his gyrating toe. The only character which came close was Casio's love interest, Bianca, who coveyed sheer lust so effectivly, that her applause was loudest, despite having maybe 7 minutes on stage. She sashayed, she strutted, she tango-ed, Hell, I think she may have even rhumba-ed. With two huge flowers in her hair, she frolicked her way on stage, and made off with the audience's heart. The love affair between her and Casio threatened to steal the show were it not for the fact that the main couple was soon to die afterwards.

The only problems; The actor playing Othello wasn't black. The only important detail about the characters at all, and they botch it.
The funny thing was, in the play, Othello suffers from seizures. When Iago convinces him that Desdemona is cheating on him, he has a fit. I assumed this would be conveyed in subtle dance tones, and perhaps imaginative lighting. Oh no. Hell no. The actor threw himself on stage and had a seizure. (probably not a real one). I was awestruck. My jury is still out as to whether this was brilliant, or inept.

All in all, totally worth seeing.

Kung Fu

I had always believed that Kung Fu was in fact, a myth. A term made up to describe a child's fascination with "ass-kicking". I have recently come to discover, in my endeavor to learn a martial art, that this is not so.

After attending a few dojos, I found one which suits my liking, at the university of Alberta. The program teaches Wing Chun style Kung Fu (oh you know I feel badass just saying that) and numbers over 50 strong. it is a seriously huge class. I'm gratefied to note that I am not the oldest one present, as was the case with the last class I had attended.

The style itself is rather beautiful, featuring a series of blocks and blows that originate from the sternum, aiming at the opponenet's sternum. It is a style of subtle turns, shifts, and redirection. The blocks become almost effortless. Although it is aimed at being a strictly function, energy-efficient style, they are teaching us a few stances that simply look pretty, and focus one's energy. I have learned so far the: Horse stance (much like riding a horse), Bow stance (Like a lunge at full-forward), the cat stance (all weight on one back, bent leg, the front leg slightly bent and gracefully curved. Crazy tiring), and the monkey stance (consisting of a series of stances and moves which, when put together, look "really bitchin'"). I am sore all over, but I can't wait for the next class. The instructors are patient, and the timing is good; if I am sensible, I can stop at home, from the class, for a half-hour, then depart to catch my bus for work. If I'm not sensible, I can just bring my uniform and lounge in the gym showers for a half-hour or more.

Now to gush like a child;
When I used to watch Mulan, (yes, the disney movie, shush)I loved the shoes they wore for training. Little, black, almond shaped with a gold stripe around the bottom, I thought they were adorable. and, like Kung Fu, I had thought them fake. They totally aren't. Silly me. I need to obtain a pair cause, damn. SO CUTE. Couple them with the uniform of Kung Fu, and I'm sure I'll feel legitimate!

Ah, I jest. I've picked it up remarkably quickly, and the instructor has had only a few brief suggestions during class for me. I feel gratified. :) My next class is tonight, but I may be unable to attend, due to bad timing with my Certified Protection Officer training, which I thought had been moved to Thursday. Now I'm so confused I don't know what's what.
More later.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

Discworld Guide by Terry Pratchett

I would really love to inflict the Discworld series on everyone I know, but it gets difficult to explain everything about them all to a new reader. So I've banged out this reference to help people make an informed choice about what to read first.
To best select which you should start with, you need to answer a couple questions. His Discworld ones, the most famous and prolific, have several running story lines, all with different themes and feelings. The main ones, and best to start with are: The witches of Lancre, The City Watch, Rincewind, Death and his relatives, or the Industrial Revolution.
The witches’ series is mainly philosophical, with an emphasis on the absurdity of our society and beliefs, and helping to understand our own history of paganism and such. Also focuses quite heavily on morality, (Arguably my favorite brain read). If you read any in order, it is these ones I would recommend to do so; ESPECIALLY the trilogy of Wyrd sisters, Witches abroad, and Lords and Ladies.
The City watch is my current favorite, mostly due to my interest in the military and police work. Focuses on the development of Ankh-Morpork (the main Discworld city), and explores the nature of existentialism, the self, and also Justice. Also includes the bonus character of Vetinari the ruler of Ankh-Morpork, who is arguably the most fascinating character on the Disc. He really steals the show. But then he makes is better, more organized, and sort of gives it back, while still maintaining complete control, and tells you it’s all yours again, but you have to run it exactly how he says because If you don’t, well, nothing bad would happen, but think of your delightful children, and wonderful wife, currently residing at (insert address here)? Wouldn’t they be disappointed in you? Plus he calls himself a tyrant. Rincewind is the best series to start with if you want to understand the climate of the whole Disc. Also discusses the nature of the magic on the Disc and the relationship between our science and the Disc. Includes a focus on the idiosyncrasies of our love for heroes.
Last, but not least, the Death series (ha ha). An all encompassing view of the Discworld (Death himself is present in every novel), with an interest to examining the nature of death, life, the human condition, as well as fate and destiny. Another good series to read in order, as the evolution of the primary two characters, Death and his granddaughter Susan, is quite fascinating. Death actually grows, learns, and changes markedly throughout.
Finally, the Industrial Revolution is a series of books examining the nature of Cities, economics, and, well, revolutions. Also focuses on the development of ankh-Morpork, with a view to the minuet everyday life of the average denizen.

If you wish to start with the Witches, they are the longest running series, starting with Equal Rites, moving into Wyrd sisters, Witches abroad, Lords and Ladies, Carpe Jugulum, then Masquerade, also involving the City watch somewhat, then Wee free men, Hat Full of sky, and Wintersmith. This series includes two short stories I have been unable to locate called “The Little Fish and the sea” and some other one possibly involving pink.
To start the City Watch series, you should begin with Men at Arms, Guards! Guards!, Feet of Clay, Jingo (my longest running favorite), The Fifth Elephant, Nightwatch, then Thud!. If you would like to mesh them, Masquerade would be read in between Jingo and The Fifth Elephant.
The Rincewind novels start with the first Discworld novel, but have not been updated in a while. They begin Color of Magic, The Light Fantastic, Sorcery, Faust (Eric), Interesting Times, The Last Continent, and finally The Last Hero. This series, if read with the Witches, should be read in an alternating fashion. For the witches and wizards meet in Lords and Ladies and there is some confusion over headmasters at Unseen University (the main place for the Rincewind series). Equal Rites should be read after Color of Magic but before Sorcery, as the head Witch takes a trip to the University and meets the headmaster. The Last Hero should be read in between The Fifth Elephant and Nightwatch as it involves a main City Watch character.

The Industrial Revolution series is short, Moving Pictures, The Truth, Monstrous Regiment, Going Postal, then the newest addition, Making Money. This should not be started until after Jingo, Interesting Times, and Masquerade, since it will affect your perception of Ankh-Morpork.

The Death Series, although he is in every book, is primarily: Mort, Reaper man, Soul Music also involving the wizards, Hogfather, then Thief of Time. Soul Music should be read before Interesting Times, and Hogfather should be read after Jingo.

There are a few random books which sort of have an order; Pyramids and Small Gods should be read before Thief of Time, and Carpe Jugulum. The Science books (The science of Discworld I, II, III) can be read any time after The Last Continent. The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents should be read by candlelight in the tub, to achieve the full effect, but other than that, go nuts.

The new spring love

I love
sunset is like warm autumn fury,
the clouds like sticky sweet cherubs;
and if I close my eyes , the wind, like a new lover,
whispers me into a newborn child,
amazed at the colors and laughing at the birds.

Friday, October 19, 2007

A preponderance of words

This was just too funny, so I had to post it.

The day after I had written the previous post, complaining that a tank could've fallen on my friend, Mike, and I would never know, he phoned. To say a tank had almost fallen on his friend.
What had happened is, typically mechanics are issued Pistols, rather then the rifles that everyone else, barring clerks, is assigned. However, they had a limited number, so some mechanics had rifles. Apparantly Mike's team had a tank propped up for fixing, when the jack failed, and it began to fall on them. Everyone scattered, except Mike's friend who tripped over his rifle! He managed to pull himself upright and scurry off in time, but wow. Talk about close calls.

(I'd saved this email for a few days, hoping to add to it, but things had just been so crazy that now it's kinda outta date. But I guess my readership won't know it unless I tell them, so I won' crap.)

The opera. Carmen was good. Not fabulous. I realized later, that I'd expected good acting, which is not the point of the Opera. Silly me. But I was already familiar with the music enough that it wasn't a surprise anymore. So.

I managed to get an eye surgery consultation, in which they vouchsafed that, yes, I am admissable for surgery and , holy crap, don't I have big pupils? However, after gushing to a friend that I was admissable, and now I'm well on my way to a police career the following exchange occurred;
Friend: "Where did you go to?"
Myself: "Lasik MD. Why?"
F: "Oh please, don't go there. I hate them so much. My op spends all his time fixing their botched jobs!"
M: "*sigh* information that could've been brought to my attention YESTERDAY!"

But, at least I know now I am okay to get it done. I'll try at some other places first though, and see what they say.

All in all, life is getting marginally better. I have pancakes now, and a strange urge to put random shit into them. like pecans and bananas.

Cat still dumb.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Takin' the training wheels off...

This building is so thin I can hear people cough in the room upstairs. It's useful because I can monitor my surroundings more effectivly, it's discouraging cause, well, when I'm busting out "proud mary" at 3 in the morning, I don't really need everyone critiquing my singing. ( seriously people, It's not meant to be sung well, it's meant to be sung ANGRILY!)

I've my first meeting with a financial advisor tomorrow. I'm less terrified then I thought I'd be, but still aware that it will be 10:30 and I will not have had sleep for a bit, and my body will be all-ready for bed by then. I may have to censor myself heavily.

I also have an appointment with a laser eye surgery clinic in the city to be assessed for my surgery suitability. I'm exacted, but still tense. If I'm disqualified, my Police career will end before it starts as well. I have no reason to be nervous, but I am aware of the possibility for a lot of hurt.

Speaking of hurt. I have a cat. Her name is Xiao-mei (a mess of chinese that I like to think translates to "tiny younger sister". Since the only chinese-speaker I have asked about it thought I had named her Chowmein, I have decided I don't care if it translates well or not) She is, unfortunatly, a bundle of energy wrapped in pointy tiny claws. My arms bare the marks of a thousand flying leaps. She is practically death-defying in her aerial acrobatics to get onto my shoulders. However, she is soothing to me, and relief when I come home and she's there. I managed to clip two of her claws today. Not two paws. Two claws. I consider this a triumph.

In other news, my job is going well. Many prospects for new training, and I've fully adapted to the nightshift now. the new gentleman I am working with is really great to work with, although his english is a tad slow. I've been debating learning some spanish, to help meet him halfway. On the plus side, he's quick to correct himself, and eager to do whatever. I am happy.

I am melancoly however, from missing so many people that are so important in my life; Mike in Wainwright, Tim in Gagetown, Tobe's fallen off the world, Edmund still persistantly in Toronto, my family in High Level. I also haven't even heard from Mike in WEEKS. MIKE, If you are reading this, bloody well call me! You could've had a tank fall on you, and I likely wouldn't know! This makes me grumpy!

The last, most exciting recent new thing is Opera tickets! I have a ticket to Carmen (!!) next Tuesday and Othello (!!!) on November 3. Ohh I'm tingly all over!

Well, that's all. Probably.
Love to everyone who cares to update this.

Monday, October 01, 2007


This past weekend (september 27-30th) I had the good fortune to travel with a group of close friends to the lovely city of Vancouver to see some friends wed themselves.
As is customary for myself, let me gush about the hotel first.
The sunset inn.
Relatively close to everything we needed,and including a kitchen (yes!) a living room and full cable t.v. (more then at home : P) the feature that won me over completely was the bed. It was massive. Seriously huge. The pillows and comforter were like marshmellow spread, except not sticky, and significantly less fattening. It took up almost the ENTIRE bedroom (and yes, there was a seperate room for the bedroom. wonderful!) It was somewhat inconvenient to sneak around in the dead of night when needing to pee, but I think I didn't care.

Thursday night, the night of our arrival, we rented a minivan SUV to ferry 7 of us to the hotel. Even with all our luggage we were only a petite bit cramped. Surprisingly, despite the late hour, we all were pretty restless, and went out for congee (a thick chinese soup characterized by large chunks of green onion on top). This marks the first occasion I have ever had to try ostrich meat. (as far as I recall...). Tasted like beef. moving on.
Friday, despite the forecast of rain, was beautiful. Clear skies marked by lazy fat clouds, warm sun, and a slight breeze. A perfect day for a wedding. After planting a box of viagra on the proposed wedding night bed, we disembarked for Alvin the groom's house. Watching the tea ceremony, where the bride and groom serve tea to the groom's family (serving to the bride's family was a more private affair to which I was not privy) was quite moving. In fact, once it was over, despite the fact that the justice of the peace had not even arrived to make it lawful, it seemed pretty obvious that they were married. the formality and paperwork came later, with my less laughter and fanfare, I think. It was beautiful, the whole ceremony.

The reception took place at Kirin restaurant downtown. I can't even fathom the expense taken to host this. Everyone, all 150-odd guests, was served Shark fin soup. (This is a crazy expensive dish). There were around 12 courses, and I swear I ate until I died, then ate until I was resurrected again. There were speeches, and jokes, and wedding games, and fun. The wedding slideshow of the couple moved me to tears, and the whole evening passed blissfully.
We regretfully called the evening short to race home and undo some of the more odious pranks played on the honeymoon suite (including ice cubes in the bed and the lightbulbs unscrewed); hoping to save the exhausted bride and groom from complete irritation.

The saturday was spent shopping for nicknacks and such, having lunched in a fabulous gay bar which served shepard's Pie that I must have been very good to deserve. The evening was the real treat though. We all joined (all 17 of us) at a sushi restaurant for all-you-can-eat sushi. The bill came to $500. Awesome. Really Awesome. We have some marvellous pictures of Joseph and Alvin smashing sashimi into each other's mouths (I do mean smashing) and I now have the memory of Alvin managing to scoop a whole bowl of jello into his mouth in one swift movement while fending off Joseph. A rousing success. : )

Sunday morning was spent meeting Joseph's Aunt and Uncle for Dim sum. However, I was mildly embarassed when his uncle ordered me a knife and fork. I am still unsure if this was courtesy, or if my chopstick skills are that bad... any insight is welcome.
The afternoon and evening were spent getting home, and harassing each other.

All in all, an incredible trip.
I apologize for the lack of grace in this post, but I'm rather tired, and need to conserve energy for the 7 hour shift still ahead of me.
Love all

Friday, September 21, 2007

Conclusive evidence

Speaking of God,
I now have solid proof that not only does a deity exist, but He also loves me very much and wants me to be happy.

Othello, the ballet, is coming to Edmonton and I can totally afford tickets. And I have the day free. And the dress I bought for vancouver will match flawlessly.

*hyperventilates into paperbag*

It is my favorite Shakespeare. His tragedies have always been an interest of mine, although mostly a passing fancy. Othello, however, was like heaven in misery for me. Brilliant plot, incredible characters, and everyone dies in the end. Perfection. Not only that, but it is certainly the easiest of Shakespeare's to put on stage, since all the action revolves around the characters and one white handkerchief. Simplicity itself.
Ohhh Ecstacy of Brilliance

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The Lobby

Sometimes, due to the crazy amount of pressure buildup in this building, when someone opens a door, the wind rushes through in a tremendous hurricane and all I can think is:
"God is passing by..."

Friday, September 07, 2007

Night Shift

Things are going exceptionally well in my new job. I really enjoy it. The slight responsability, the calmness, the few people, the time to catch up on my reading, the time to think about things. It's good pay, with a good chance to move up and very little unpleasantness. I've even adjusted to the strange hours I now demand my body keep. It will happily accept 4 hours of sleep one day, then 9 hours the next. This is good.

Coming up I have a Chinese wedding in Vancouver. I'm relaly excited, and am using it as an excuse to buy myself something pretty to wear with the money I received from selling the Tempo. I'm just not sure what type to buy. Is it too stereotypical to buy a mandarin style dress? Do I care if it is?

I've also decided to pay off my condo and buy my own place in the next three years. It feels good to have a goal in mind. Jared's not a bad roommate, but when I come home,and it's empty and I have the place to myself, I just feel so happy. It's feasible to pay it off in this time, plus by them I'll have had the same job for over 2 years, so I will likely be able to get a mortgage on my own, and hopeful the housing market will have calmed down. I also need to consider when I should get my eyes done, however. I have decided to get lazer eye surgery, as this is the only way I will be accepted into the police force, my vision is so bad. I'm just not sure how to go about it, I know so little about it.

I'll refrain from posting here about my relationships because, right now, they're very confusing, and there's not much I can do that will unconfuse them. It seems right now in life, the best thing I can do is just wait...I'm not very good at this however.

I miss my family terrible though. I hope they come back soon. When is Thanksgiving again anyway?

Stephen is still not walking, despite being over a year old now. He seems to be talking however, "mama" and such. So endearing.

I'm really jealous of all the people starting classes this semester for some reason. I have no idea why. Maybe it's cause I had scarecely considered the idea that one day I would be out of school. It's scary out here.


Saturday, August 25, 2007

Have you had your daily dose of irritation?

If not, simply follow this link!
It's guaranteed to leave you pulling your hair out!
The object is just to get to the next screen. Number one? Brain-dead easy. Number two? requires a few neurotransmitters to die. Number 3? with a twist of creativity, you're on your way. Number 4? Get lucky or just nit-pick. Number 5? Here's where the sickness begins.
They're so addictive, but God they get hard! It's very easy to cheat, and it ruins the game, so don't.
Just, keep trying.

Friday, August 17, 2007

More gut-wrenching fun!

1. Joseph was in a car accident today.
2. I discovered 6 more grey hairs.
These events may seem unrelated, but they are not.

He's fine. His car is honestly not that bad, bumper may need replacing, but, hopefully it won't be too bad.

My sister graciously loaned me her car so I could go see him (sometimes you just gotta hold someone, huh?) and I mostly spent the day running around like a chicken with my head cut off.

I really hate cars.

"Everything's gonna be alright, yes, rock-a-bye, Rock-a-bye."

Monday, August 13, 2007

Day two of the Second Chronical of the Epic Tales of Chelle the (not only) Supermarket Security Chick

I've had 6 hours of constantly interrupted sleep this morning, and I'm feeling pretty damn good.
I think I'm really going to like this job. The first time I wrote "Security Supervisor" instead of "Security Officer" gave me a chill I had not experienced since finding half of something in my lettuce. In a good way, of course.

The day itself was marked by coffee with my good friend Toban, espousing how confusing relationships are. we finished off with Ice cream. It doesn't make relationships less confusing, but it certainly feels great.

This site is less gratifying then the other site, in that there is less feedback (in the form of meat-filled baskets abandoned instead of stolen, although if they were stolen, how would I know? Another perk.), but it is more relaxing. My tinny radio filters through the pipe-filled front room.

Unfortunatly, a lot of it is waiting. When I wait, I think. When I think, I worry. When I worry, I make plans. When I make these plans, bad things occur.
I've brought my chinese book in the hopes of distracting my monkey brain long enough for it not to stress.
Wish me luck, all.

Second Chronical of the Epic tales of Chelle the (not only) Supermarket Security chick!

So I've napped twenty minutes in the desperate hope of convincing my body or brain that it is now morning, that I'm not tired at all, that this is a normal day. I think the blackness around my head confuses it, but otherwise, it's duped.
I've fooled my body.
I'm not sure this makes me happy or not.

Animethon has passed this weekend. The chaos, excitement, and hope of it makes me desperatly want to be a part, and I think I annoy more then a few people in my attempt to assist. I vow to volunteer (or even staff) next year.

I've biked to work, 2 in the morning, on the empty, soothing, road. Somehow, the glee of conquering the angry asphalt that eat tires and spits out fumes wakes me. It might be the cold. By the time I hit work, I'm feeling cocky.
The officer I'm replacing will work again at the end of my shift, so he grabs his well-loved star wars pillow and heads for the quiet nurse's office. He's a good man. I like him.

It's just me and the radio, the empty foyay making my typing loud enough to sound responsible, maybe even legitimate? I'd taken my contacts out for an hour or two previously to this, but now they scratch, and there's a muscle between my shoulder blades that won't unclench.

Despite all this, I'm quite euphoric. Might be the coffee, might be the memory of the weekend my boyfriend and I spent, which could have easily proven disasterous, but seems to have worked out, in the weird way our things seem to resolve, leaving me feeling hopeful, and sated.

I still recall the cotton hakima pants and top that my friend lent me, to emulate Kikyo from "Inuyasha", an anime I enjoy. Channeling Kikyo, I felt bolder. Perhaps it was the lengthy black wig, covering my face (anonymity is a friend to many), or the knowledge that the outfit was worn by so many before in history, connecting the motions I make to the long-ago tales, the yellow,worn, pages of antiquity, which always seem so insubstantial; Whatever the cause, I am acutely aware of the steps I take forward in my life. This awareness makes it difficult to not run, since charging headlong is not the best idea for now, when caution, patience, and sense are my closest friends.
Anyway, I can learn.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Life turns

I've started a new job as night supervisor with G4 Security. I'm really excited about it, but well, I'm sort of weary.
Is this all there is to life?
I've been denied the military.
My eyesight may rule me out from police service.
How can I make a difference?

I find the idea of continuing this strange path for years and years incredibly tiring. Where can I find some meaning in this world?
there may only ever be the meaning I put into it, but this depresses me. Does nothing really matter? Or does it only matter enough? Is that enough? Will anything ever be enough?

Dark space open in front of me. For the first time, my path is not clear. How often do I have to kick open doors to try and find a new path? Doors that close so firm in my face.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Day the 18th in which panic happens.

I woke on the bus to Gatwick, trundled my crap off, and went in to check-in. My flight left in about three hours, and I was excited to be going home. All I needed was my connecting flight from Toronto to Edmonton, and I could bask in the light of familiarity once more.

My flight was delayed to 1315. Don't ever travel with "mytravel" airlines. Not only did they refuse to assist me in making the connection I now had less then an hour for, but they refused to accept responsibility for the late arrival. The 7 hour flight passed by , marked by a feeling of dread and hyperventilation. I only managed to regain control over my panic ridden body by listening to the two kids chatter on next to me. They kept me entertained by such phrases as, "When that was popular, Mr. Clean had an Afro!" and various "three men are walking along a beach/on a plane/eating sandwiches." jokes.

I missed my flight. The second in this trip.
I began to silently weep as I approached the Westjet service counter, anticipating exorbitant expenses.
"Do you have a boarding pass?"
"Yes." *sniff* "It's for three hours ago."
I was swept up in a tide of human generosity.
"Oh you poor thing! We'll get you on the next available flight possible! Don't you worry about a thing!"
*sniff* "I love you."

Not only did I get on a new flight for a very cheap amount, but it happened to be on the flight that Mike was taking home! Once I found him, reading some mystery book on the other side of security, I clung to him, and wept my little face off.
I leeched onto him for the duration of the flight home, and, upon, arrival, leeched onto both him, and my mother, who came to save me from the airport.

I'm home now, and you know what? Europe may be prettier, but Canadians are nicer.

Trip day the 16thm In which strangeness happens, and trip day the 17th, In which delays happen.

On the sixteenth, I had the unspeakable pleasure of entering, after three tries each of which included a half an hour wait in the burning sun, the Vatican Museums! They were incredibly beautiful, including the Sistine chapel, which was really small! I mean, when you see the posters of the painting on the roof, you gain the impression it is 1000 feet long and 300 feet high, but In reality it was about 60 feet across, and about 120 feet long. It is quite high, however, making it difficult to pick out details. The majesty and talent of Michelangelo is effortlessly apparent. I moved through it rather quickly, despite the lead up being several miles of rooms filled with minor works of art, and hope to have the pictures I garnered from it up shortly. Afterwards, I lunched at the Vatican cafeteria, forgoing the "wine-in-a-juice box" for a coke and pizza containing some type of tough-skinned fish. I didn't eat slowly enough to really examine it, however.

After attempting some shopping, which resulted in a few items for others, I metro-ed back to Tiburtina to catch my bus, confident in the knowledge that I had already been on this bus, and thus knew everything that was necessary.
I become so distracted by the Italian countryside, however, that I neglected to notice my stop. This is a hazardous move when you are on an inter-city bus. I exited the bus in Palombara, Italy, A small town where people substitute comprehension for volume. However, communication was made, and I found myself sitting on a low wall, with a brittle smile on, hoping that the bus both came by here, and took the same route back. Both turned out fine, and I gratefully fell into bed, aware of my flight the next day.
Determined to make this flight uneventful, I shuttled into Rome, Metro-ed to Tiburtina, and train-ed to Ciampino. The town, outside of the airport. Drat. I hoisted my trunk and began walking. after a half an hour, I stopped to ask directions, and was told that it was far too far, would I like a ride?
I arrived 8 hours early for my flight.
I spent the time rearranging my bags in the desperate hope that I would somehow lose 4 kg, the amount over my baggage was (they had a 15 kg limit). I was sweating bullets by the time I approached the check-in counter, but the lady waved my bag through without a backwards glance. Yes!
A few hours later, I was inside Stansted airport, after fording the sickening lines in front of Customs.
I found myself in between a store called "LoveJuice" and a man using a luggage trolley as a wheelchair.
I bought myself a ticket to London Gatwick on a bus which ran directly there, and sat on my duff.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Trip day the 14th, in which religion happens, and Trip day the 15, in which little happens.

I've bundled them because, to be perfectly frank, the 15th was boring. I phoned people, and lazed around, and desperately tried to calm my mind enough to tan. It didn't work; I was so antsy! There was no shuttle into town, so I thought, "this is a good excuse to stay home."

The fourteenth was spent at San Pietro (St. Peter's Basilica to the 'un-italian parloing') It is really spectacular. The pizza is huge, and the line to get in wraps around the piazza, and disappears in minutes. It took me approximately 20 minutes to get from one end, to inside. (security takes a while) I'd gone with some Romanians from the Villa, but as soon as we were inside, I bolted. They were nice, but well, I didn't really want to play tour guide. Michelangelo's La Pieta took my breath away, despite being behind Plexiglass (a hammer wielding maniac damaged it a few years back; they take precautions now)and the statues were magnificent. The first area I really saw however, was the tomb of the popes, including our beloved John Paul II. Even with the reverent quiet, people praying, asking guards in hushed tones if they would touch treasured objects to his grave, which they would, people were still somewhat disrespectful. I saw multiple pictures being taken. But, to me, the most poignant moment came when I found the sanctum of St. Peter himself, where a man was praying with such fervor that I felt I had stepped into another world, invading his planet. The area is perfectly preserved, and commands respect in every foot. (Re-checking my handy book, it seems that some bones were found, confirmed to be St. Peter's and interred in this space) This is holy ground, I can feel it.
However, this holiness doesn't stop me from being a moron. Upon seeing some people exit a stairway, I ask "Questo Via San Pietro?" (Is this the way to St. Peter's?) They offered it was, and I excitedly made my way up the steps, expecting to see the great hall itself (which I had yet to). I found myself behind an alter. Oh crud. Which was all fenced off. Oh crud. Opting not to sully myself and the space by hopping the fence, I hurriedly made my way back down the stairs, and tried to look innocent. Good grief, my luck.

Once I find the hall, it is incredibly breathtaking: The statues, the sarcophagi, the alters, masses being held everywhere, confessionals in every language under the sun. I say a quick prayer in the chapel off to the side, and, after taking some discreet photos in the main hall (which were allowed, I just felt invasive) I returned outside to the beauty of the piazza. Apparently, the cross on the top of the tower in the middle contains a piece of the holy cross which Christ was crucified on. I feel really blessed to be here, and alive, today. I hope you guys feel it too, reading this.

I felt less blessed when I realized I had no Euros on me, and I required 2 to get home. Even less so when the only place in the city that I knew took my Visa, wasn't working because their system was down. Really REALLY less blessed when no shop anywhere would give me even one Euro back off my Visa. I tried for 6 hours.
So was I.

Then a teen came up to me and said, "Are you alright?"

After I stopped bawling I explained that I couldn't get home cause I couldn't buy a bus ticket. He asked how much and I replied, "One Euro and twenty". He said, "A hundred and twenty Euros?" (I could see he was a little nervous because he wanted to help, but good grief, a hundred and twenty Euros!) I replied, "No; One Euro and twenty centissimi." He laughed, and bought me a ticket. We bussed home together (his stop was later then mine) and I gave thanks again for the hand of God in my life.

I also told him that I'd learned my lesson,and would start planning further ahead in the future...

Anyway, I was hoping to get 'day the 16th' up because it has been really exciting, but it looks like it will have to wait. If you would like a sample though, three scenes ought to do it: I'm standing in the Sistine Chapel, I'm eating some strange sort of fish on a pizza (not anchovies...more eel-ish...) and I'm in some random town that isn't Rome, where no-one speaks English.
Not to worry, I am safe at the Villa once more,awaiting my flight tomorrow evening, but it was interesting!
Love everybody!

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Trip day the 13th, I'm which I assault women's cleavages.

Well,ditched the tour in favour of wandering around with some really cute Swedish guys. They speak English perfectly, but tend to lapse into Swedish when talking to each other; sometimes I don't notice, so they'll be talking, and then I have no idea what's going on. Or better, they'll be speaking Swedish, then change into English to talk to me, and I'll completely ignore them. Ah, sigh, the fun with languages. We bought tickets for a tour of the Coliseum (thus skipping the huge line!) however, it seems surprisingly small, especially from the inside. It is also far more damaged then I had thought. I mean, yes it's very old, but well, so is my great grandma. We toddled over to the arch of Constantine, which was nearly perfectly preserved, despite being around the same age (well, 200-300 years difference, who's counting?) Compared to the Coliseum, though, it was HUGE! For a big carved block of rock, it's pretty damn big!
Wandered up many side roads, getting multiple directions, to see the Trevi fountain, the Spanish steps, and the Piazza de Medinine. One of the neatest sights on the way, however, was a radio next to some paper cut outs of Mickey and Minnie, which were dancing to the music! I was astounded, formulating some theory about magnets and radio waves. They were dirt cheap, but I decided not to buy one. One of the Swedish men did, and I vowed to ask him later how they worked. At the fountain, we all threw in coins (myth says if you throw one in, you'll return to Rome, if you throw two in, you'll meet your Italian true love, and if you throw three in, you'll marry them. needless to say, I threw one in. However, this did not save me from fate attempting to spark my lesbian love career. I threw it into a woman's cleavage. Thank goodness, "Mi Scuzzi!" is my best phrase, and my sneakers were laced up tight.) We had some really great supper after that, (Penne Pasta for myself) and taxied home (which was really cheap, despite being from the center, and even divided four ways, which makes me wonder if I got fleeced on my cab ride to the hotel from the airport. Lost, huh? Yah, right.)

I'm hoping to see Vatican City tomorrow, but I may have twisted my ankle. Crap. Poot. Damn.

I also have some breath-taking photos! Which I hope to be posting on Facebook asap.
For the interested, I will be returning on the Friday of this week, at 11:15pm.

Oh boy,Oh boy!

Monday, July 16, 2007

Trip day the 12th; In which I tan, and run into more Candians.

Wake late, eat breakfast, tan, try the pool.
Oh Yah, coolest umbrellas ever.
They hang, but also fold closed. There's no pole, you crank them up by a rope!

Figured I'd spoil myself today so I tried the sauna (holy crap! 60°!), the Turkish bath (smelled like wet cement) and got a massage (fell asleep in the middle).
Afterwards mostly just wandered around the area poking things. No-one wanted to listen to my Chirgulchin tho, I may have to wait until I get back to bathe in their dulcet tones again.

Also figured out that honking is a way of saying, "hey there!" and they'll do it. Even if it visibly scares the pants off you.

We have two restaurants in walking distance, but one wasn't open (no hours displayed either) the other didn't open till! Weird hours these people keep!

I've got a tour booked for tomorrow, covering all the main spots of Rome. Very exciting! Although they are very confusing as well, half of them are "San such and such" the other half are "Piazza what-have-you".

I spend the evening lounging in my bed watching Ranma 1/2 in Italian. (Ranma is a Japanese Anime populated by gender/species-changing individuals that are all in confusing love triangles) Strangely, it is just as understandable in Italian as it is in English. I think "body" should become an official language.

Well, ciao bella! (the second Italian phrase I have learned)

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Trip day the 11th, In which I leave for Rome

oh shit.
Oh no.
No no no no no. No!
I've woken up at 7:30.
My flight left at 6:10.

What the hell do I do?

All my luggage is packed.
I am sitting on the bed, stuck. Completely.
I don't wanna stay here anymore.
Please send me to Rome.

The guy at the desk says it's possible to buy a one way ticket quite cheaply, so I'm going back to try and get some more sleep.
I don't think it's working.
Alright. I've got a ticket. It's kinda expensive but you know what?

The sun is shining, I feel pretty, God is good.
I think it's gonna be a wonderful day.

Wandered to Crystal Palace, after saying good-bye and thank you at the hotel, bused to East Croyden, then promptly got onto the wrong train. A non-stop to Brighton.
This isn't a problem, since I allowed several hours to travel to the airport, my ticket covers all available trips, and I get to talk to a fascinating man on my bas named Paul Hewlett, an Irish former boxer who now roofs and raises stallions. We laughed about London, he told me about his kids and Ireland (lives in Cork), I told him about my Dad who used to box, and we worried we would be thrown out of first class together.
If anything, this whole pile of poo has made me more excited to see Rome, and gave me a lasting good memory of London.

Plus, it was kinda funny, when I think about it. I ran out to the front desk to see what time it was (in case my clock was wrong) in my backwards jammies (thrown on too fast) with my hair all messed up, in my bare feet, but despite my panic, I still remembered to put in my contacts and grab my room card. Sometimes, I really astound myself.

I saw London,
Flew over France;
I'm in Rome, now,
watch me dance!

Shuttle wasn't at the airport.
ah, screw it.
Rented a cab.
We got lost.
We left Rome.
We entered Rome.
We toured Rome.

Finally, when I was about ready to pack it in and go to another hotel (I didn't have that much money on me, and was having horrific visions of myself sleeping on the roadside of Country Rome) we found it.

It. Is. Incredible.
No, wait, that doesn't do it justice; C'est Incroyable!
I'll describe it tomorrow; I'm so tired my eyes may fall out, and I haven't eaten at all today.
But I have to say this; I have a Bidet.
My toilet is a Bidet and my AC has a remote.
HA-HA World!

Just when life couldn't get any worse, now it couldn't get any better!

Okay I'm way too excited to sleep! I'll tell you about it now! My own TV, bathroom, all wood furniture, ceramic floor, patio door to the pool area, huge striped curtains covering a whole wall, huge lockable wardrobe (doesn't lead to Narnia), my own writing desk with lock, mini fridge, AC! AHH!

The comforter is nearly as thick as it is wide (no seriously. Someone needs to let the Italian's in on the secret of duvets because this thing is 7ft long, about 6 inches thick (all over!) and about a foot and half wide. It's awesome, don't get me wrong, just weird.) I'm so enchanted! I wish I was staying longer then 6 days. We should bring the family here! For how nice it is, it's so damn cheap!
OK going to bed.
Oop, one more thing: My clock is 24 hour.
So cool.

Now that I am updating today, I'd like to add that the keyboard is rearranged, so any spelling errors are likely due to the new configuration, and the fact that blogger is all in Italian. Seriously cool. Wanna see the new characters? ç ò à ù § £ ì è é €. Awesome, huh?

Friday, July 13, 2007

Trip day the 10th; in which I "potter" around

I've been worried about going to Rome, until I saw a show about a lady that likes to travel to Afghanistan and Iraq on vacation. Her main point is, "If people live there, why can't I go on vacation there?"
I think this may be the best advice to give or hear.
So I arm myself with my "amazon-in-training" button, and head off under grey skies (perfect for the tower of London).

I keep forgetting my Italian book, so I brush up on mandarin instead. Why not? A nod's as good as a wink, eh?
I don't have a cockney accent yet, but I think this is due to conscious effort on my part. Surrounded by the soft rolling tones, I can feel them line up on my tongue, but when I open my mouth, I still sound like that lady off "This hour has 22 minutes". Speaking of which, I almost forgot; Rick Mercer is GAY! Jas was in a gay bar in London with a friend of hers when he walked in. He was trying to be discrete (apparently he's really short, but always wears a suit.) but they danced around him singing, "Rick Mercer! Rick Mercer!". Poor guy.

The tower of London is great, with a Yeoman Warder tour included. He was extremly funny, cracking jokes about how no lady's engagement ring could compare to the crown jewels, but the men can get back at the ladies by showing them the galley where King Henry hanged his wives, and speculating on King Henry's codpiece (the first incident of psychological warfare).He also, when we cheered to hear more stories of torture, called us "Weirdos" but was "bloody glad there's no Frenchies here".

Harry Potter was so much better then the last two, neither of which included much in the way of plot points, and felt too rushed.

I'm in a pub, watching an Indian rap video about pregnant women. Seriously, this singer is surrounded by dozens of pregnant women. I have no idea what it's supposed to be about, but they all seem really happy.

I head home, book a wake-up call for 4, and desperately try to get a few hours sleep.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Trip day the 9th; In which little happens

Alright, if you eat only sandwiches, it's possible to eat quite cheaply in London.

I slept in until 2 today. My body seems to be pinwheeling between no sleep and all sleep. Silly thing. (yes, this is all my body's fault. Not because I woke at 7 o'clock and said, "Bugger this"...)

I also really like the feel of the £. It's got some serious weight to it, and it feels pretty damn good to slap that down on a cafe table after consuming a coffee and croissant, and then be able to leave. If I had to, I would say that this is what maturity feels like.

It saddens me that the more I see of the world, the less of it I like. In fact, I think the only bits of it I really like anymore are beneath the feet of people I know. I mean, I whine about London, how expensive it is, blah blah blah, but I think if I moved here, and started earning British pounds, I'd love it. There's a lot more culture, style, taste, love put into this place. I feel like a young girl who started seeing a 30 year old. So much more mature, established, delightful, but I've no idea how to talk to people and my meager savings look really paltry. How can I go back to dating sweaty teenagers (Edmonton)? But all my friends are there! Maybe I will look into the British army. I hear they're way more hardcore then Canada.

Over a red Cabernet Sauvignon that hints of chocolate, and a pumpkin ravioli to die for, I wonder why this country is not permanently soused, given how easy it is to find really good booze here. It seems to be on every street corner. It's certainly in every grocery store.

I feel kind of silly, because I bussed all the way to Cromwell to see Harry Potter, which opens tomorrow. Damnit.
I buy a ticket for the 5:00 show, anyway, delighted to find you pick your seats in advance. I've got a pretty groovy one near the front. Sorry if you wanted me to wait family, but well, drat-it-all, I have to see it in Britain! And then spend the remaining night looking for number 4 privet drive! It's here somewhere!

I've come all this way, though, too far to leave without something, so I buy a ticket to "La vie en rose" the story of Edith Piaf (No-one tell Mike; he'd be so grumpy!).

So I'm bawling my eyes out in the middle of the theater, then humming the tunes all the way home. Really great stuff. Life just poos on this poor woman, to a beat you can dance to.
Afterwards, I finally satisfy my 3 month long craving for Creme Brulee. It was apple and rhubarb flavored, and I have yet to find proof that the joy didn't kill me. (Neither the ride home nor the programming were convincing that I am not in purgatory)

Anyway, I hope for the tower of London before I leave, the day after tomorrow! I'll be able to breakfast in London, then Lunch in Rome! w00t!

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Trip day the 8th, my first full day in London

I can't sleep. Finally, I stop trying around 7 and just get up. I hope this doesn't become a habit.

The promised "traditional English breakfast" apparently doesn't involve any kind of fruit, but it doesn't really matter since my cereal appears to be "ludicrously tasty". I think they might be exaggerating though...

Well, hurray! My first big trip in London and it's on the top of a double decker bus! Ha!

Little kids playing cricket, well, holding cricket bats, anyway...

Big Ben is really huge. I mean, awe inspiring! And guarded by so many men in uniform with big, rapid fire auto weaponry! someone trying to steal big Ben?

The National gallery is really fabulous, but there is no photography allowed. Damnit.
The 1st paintings to really strike me are a quartet, "The allegory of Love". Scorn, unfaithfulness, respect, and happy union. It's the same couple pictured in all of them, but the guy just gets dumped on! Beaten, cheated on, thoroughly teased, then finally, he gets her in the last one, but I can't fathom why he wants her!?
The paintings of St. Jerome all become easily distinguishable, he always has a rock somewhere close by...
There is a painting (I couldn't make this up) called "A grotesque old woman" that seriously looks like an orangutan in a dress. My heart goes out to this lady, who is flawlessly painted in all her ugliness, with a brilliant smile. Painters are so strange.

The painting "the execution of Lady Jane Grey" is really spectacular, a must see in person. You can see the executioner's tights bunch around his knees, and the way the Lady gropes for the executing block just squeezes your heart.

The picture by Reuben, "the massacre of the innocents" almost reduces me to tears. It depicts the soldiers executing Hebrew babies on the order of King Herod (I think?), and this painting pulls no punches in it's quest to show the true horror of it's subject. Brutalized infants, women desperately trying to save their children. An old women bites a solider to protect her grandson. Really terrible, but really moving.

I even manage to work in Piccadilly circus and Buckingham Palace today; too late for the changing of the guard though, maybe another day.

I do get a picture of a bobby standing at the gate, though, who informs me he carries a glock? I think? This man is defending Buckingham palace from what-ever-have-you, carrying a heavy sidearm, wearing a flack vest, aware that he may be called to lay down his life for the queen, and he thinks I'm brave for traveling alone.

Good heavens.
The exchange rate is really putting a damper on my fun though. The prices, number wise, are exactly the same as they would be in Canada, but with the pound symbol instead. I've also discovered what a "quid" is; a pound, in cockney.
I know it's silly, but I didn't know that.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Trip day the seventh, In which I travel to London, U.K.

Gate 33 seat 33A. This is a really good sign, I think. Plus, I'm over the wing.

The flight is uneventful, though I only sleep one hour, except for the shining triumph of obtaining TWO meals. Ha ha!

London smells incredible, and I'm so excited I may hurl. My train to Croyden leaves off platform 4, and let me tell you, it feels really awesome to say that. Luckily, it leaves in a few minutes, so I don't have time to take a run at the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10. The trains are so steady it's creepy, but every time they pass each other, there's a terrific "WHOOSH THUD" noise that scares the beejesus out of me.

The walk to my hotel is arduous, even more so due to my sleepy non-thinking state. I train to East Croyden, bus to West Croyden, bus back past East Croyden to (almost) crystal palace, walk an outrageously long time up a stupid steep hill, taking only a few wrong turns, toting my damn heavy bag (which I vow to strip of all useless items upon my imminent arrival), finally finding the hotel.
Marvel at the hotel.
It's fabulous!
It's brilliant!
It's all MINE!
It's got a bed!
I'm so tired!
I wake late in the afternoon to have a light lunch, and then proceed to subjugate Croyden. All of it. My knees ache from the walk, later, but I uncover a world of delights. The original site of the Crystal Palace, an actual hedge maze (forded in about 5 minutes, thank you) countless little pubs with more character then a Chapter in Tom Jones; London is so compact, so tight, the streets generously claim to be be 2 lane, with parking on the sides, but the cars whiz up and down these streets with not enough room for an anorexic locust in between them. If a new car paint shop opens in London, the accidents will be crippling. I wander the path called "Capital ring" for hours before getting supper (mac 'n' cheese). Returning to the hotel, I uncover a singular triumph, the crowning peak on the day; the room comes with a plug adapter (which I had foolishly neglected to acquire, and was a tad worried about). I crow about this while plugging in my much abused camera.
I am also somewhat embarrassed to admit that I spent the evening watching cheesy British shows. But well, they're kind of addictive.
I wonder if I can join the British army...?

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Trip day the fifth; in which I discover Mongolia

I wake to find Mike ripping up the carpet in the hallway; it's noisy, arduous, and necessary, so I guess I'll give him a hand.

I hope they can repair that banister.

We walk, later, to Sunripe, a garden market nearby filled with perfect produce, meat, incredible cheeses, nuts, seafood. I wish we could pick up more but we have to carry back whatever we buy, and it's sweltering already. I restrict myself to a bunch of raspberries, and the ingredients we'll need for a couple of breakfasts. We plan to head to London's Sunfest once we've eaten.

I have another headache. Maybe it's the loss of my usual morning coffee...

Sunfest is a vast sea of booths, filled with jingling shawls, shirts, swords, food, pictures, buttons, and anything that will stay still long enough to be bought. Despite how entranced I am by the sights, I only buy a wrap dress that doubles as a skirt, and a few postcards and buttons that highlight political issues close to my heart, ("no cars", "Don't try to legislate morality" "Amazon-in-training" you know, the essentials.)
The shops, however, are not what we've come for. (although the Vietnamese salad rolls are so good, I eat 4. Ohh my organs!)
The first show tonight is a group of Truvan throat singers, their voices rising eerily, creating a melody that catapults me back to an older time, riding skittish heavy Mongolian horses past acres of vast plains. Although the deep male voices sound like cartoon Dwarves with gout, when they "throat sing" they produce three notes each. One deep, a base line, one middle, the melody, and a high piping flute, an eerie winding harmony. They play the accordion with a few songs, the Erhu (a type of Chinese violin; sounds incredible, if you have a chance to hear it, I highly recommend it) with most, wood blocks with a couple, and many with my favorite instrument; tiny cymbals that sound like spurs. I'm so enchanted with their music, I buy their CD, the first I have purchased in a LONG time.
The only other act we have time for, unfortunately, was a Taiko drumming band. Although they are not as moving as Chirgulchin (the throat singers), the powerful mix of grace and speed, technique and passion makes me vow to start training in martial arts again.
I wake from my revelry, so deeply hypnotized by the performance I didn't see or hear Donna approaching, to hear Donna's friend, Charmane, wonder why they are so subdued. Although the four performers are working incredibly hard, sweat pouring off the main drummer, she says when they really get going, "It's like fire pouring off the stage". She tells me of a famous 15 person, all female, Taiko drumming group. I watch the group play, and wonder if I could learn this somewhere in Edmonton.

I plan to skip writing Day the sixth, since the day I should post it, I will be traveling to London, England, and I would rather not worry about posting. Besides, pretty much nothing happened. I got up re-packed, had ice-cream, looked at cars (Jasmine's buying one) and danced my feet off to a Celtic/Italian fusion band at Sunfest. It was awesome going through, but not very fascinating to read about. When next I post, I ought to be in England! My flight leaves at 5:00 today from Toronto, all, wish me luck!

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Trip Day the fourth: in which weather changes faster then my mind.

The mourning dove is following me.
All around my jog.
Outside my window.
Wretched thing...

"I'm sorry, we don't accept Interac."
"What? But, you're a Tim Horten's!"
After obtaining breakfast elsewhere, we depart for Niagara Falls.

It's a long trip there, but full of fabulous scenery; an "inconvenience store", old barns, animals, forest. Our first stop, Lake Colbourne, is so rainy the windshield wipers can't even keep up. I wonder, vaguely, if we'll be flooded. Then, in the blink of an eye, it stops. Halfway up a hill, we break into clear skies, with only the soaked car to remind us of the deluge. The water and sandy beach are soothing and there's even a honest-to-goodness lighthouse, with a sign showing "No diving, no swimming," and a blank "No" circle which I assume means, "No nothing". Never the less, we terrorize some seagulls, glad to be out and running. After trying, warily, some "Perch burgers" we drive along the Niagara river to the falls. The buildings along the trail are huge, some so old they still have places for carriages to park. Donna drops us at a point near the falls, and leaves to find parking, so Mike and I get to wander up to the falls, really appreciating the way it abruptly turns nasty, and stops. I take so many photos, I wonder how much room I'll have left for England and Rome. Apparently, as well, the roar of the falls is only a few notes higher then the lowest audible note for humans. There's rainbows everywhere, the mist cool and relaxing. I'm half marveling at the incredible height, the power of mother nature, and half marveling at all the foreign people! It seems people from every corner of the globe are here, dressing in authentic costumes, speaking new languages! I consciously close my mouth, and try to remember not to stare. Surely half the show is the earth, half the show is who's here!
The city nearby, itself, is just as fascinating. Neons, lights, signs, restaurants, extravagant colors, everything crowding for your attention all at once! A huge ferris wheel over looking the falls, a giant "hulk" figure staring you down menacingly! This must be what a true market is like! I wonder if I've fallen into a cheesy comic book; Dick Tracy designed by M.C. Escher, with Tim Burton leaning over his shoulder. The sidewalk is such a crazy angle, sometimes I feel like I'm spinning out of the book!
I drag Mike into the Ripley's believe it or not museum, a fascination of mine since I started reading the comics. For 13 bucks each, it was totally worth it, a singular treasure! Dozens of my photos will likely only be lit by it's neons.
After a point, the commercialism disturbs us, and we leave for more historical fare. We fit in Fort George (the site of the Canadian's bunker in the war of 1812. Donna tells us the Canadians and Americans would just trade pot-shots across the river), the statue of General Brock (shame we didn't have time to climb the massive staircase, or time to push down a slinky!), lake Ontario (3 of the 5 great lakes seen now!) as well as the Laura Secord homestead (what an incredible woman!) and the town of Niagara-on-the-lake (I want to retire here; so opulent!) before night fell and darkness rendered sightseeing difficult.
Donna tells us how she biked this trail with a friend, camping on the woods surrounding the road. She points out the "Prince of Wales hotel", where the Queen stays when she's in Niagara, and a gazebo where a famous horror movie was shot (couldn't remember which one, tho).
Even the trip home is eventful, seeing the lights of Hamilton and Toronto before finally making it home at 1:30.
I'm starting to become acutely aware of my impending England and Rome trip.
I'm still not convinced it was a good idea.
But every thing's booked, so, Carpe Diem, I suppose!

Friday, July 06, 2007

Trip Day the third: In which I lose my book, and fall behind a day in updates

A plinking Jack Johnson song wakes me, and I'm so glad it's raining. My body's so stiff and sore from yesterday's workout, jogging would be half-hearted if it didn't kill me.
In the front room it seems Donna has purchased three plush rugs from the auction; they match the house really well. She's painting the hall when I get up, and I feel really lazy but, meh, It's vacation, right?
We're headed to Donna's for breakfast with Mike's grandparents, but I wouldn't hold my breath till we leave...
I'm surprised to find that I'm homesick, already tired of sharing space with people who have different habits.
We arrive at Mike's grandparents. Really great people, lots of old stories, His uncle just had an aneurysm, they say, but I cannot tell, he seems tougher then most people I know. His Grandpa dropped us off at the base, Mike needs a computer with access to DND files, but we discover it is closed down. Walking to the central base (we were at a satellite compound) we pass a mental hospital with bits of plastic bag littering the lawn. I am disgusted until closer inspection reveals them to be tiny white morning glory. Charming.
On the base I peruse the RCR museum, entranced by old rifles, maps, and uniforms. It saddens me to know I will never be part of this world, but it's an incredible look at the past. Anyone interested in photos will be satiated upon my return.
The afternoon holds a childish delight; Novack's. A building full of traveling and camping supplies, from top to bottom. I pick up hand sanitizer, a money belt and some Unhol(e)y socks. I vow my next camping trip will be a backpacking one. Their displays desperately make me want to go camping in the woods. I would spend all day here, and all my savings too, but we tear ourselves away, wrapping the evening up with Ratatouille and Die hard.
I already knew Die hard was good, had seen it before, wasn't worth seeing twice, though, but Ratatouille was fabulous! Very cute, made me really want to eat something well prepared, or cook, but few deep laughs. Mostly tread lightly on my brain with little tiny rat feet.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Trip day the second - In which I am useful and confused.

I wake in the morning to discover Jasmine has returned from Montreal, her blue rental car in the driveway and her door shut. After a jog around the neighborhood, discovering more fabulous scenery, a workout and a shower in which I need to balance on one foot in order to drain the tub with my other, I'm content to wait for Donna to come over so we can indoctrinate her into the fold of Dim Sum.
"You went to China, but never tried Dim Sum?"
"Ah, good. It's better in large groups, you'll love it."

There's Mourning Doves outside my window. God, they sound pathetic.

Since Jasmine wasn't really in the mood for Chinese food (damnit), we lunched at a fabulous place called "Cora's" That had a huge breakfast menu and the most phenomenal Omelette crepe. Really. An Omelette crepe, and good coffee.

After painting the halls, during which I gave thanks for my dad's tall gene, we walked to a live auction. I've never been before, and am a little worried about looking stupid. I'm number 162 with my eye on a lovely rotary phone, and a set of Matruchka dolls painted like soviet presidents (Stalin, Yeltsin, Putin, and Gorbachev). I wonder if I've inherited my Dad's impulsiveness at auctions.

I am the bemused owner of a brass moose.
No, It doesn't do anything. It just is.

Once I sufficiently recovered my senses, I bid on a fabulous box of costume jewelery. Bidding is easier then I thought, but I am still very conscious of my movements. I don't want to scratch and wind up buying a 300 dollar painting. Afterwards, I do pick up my moose, another object, which will be a surprise for someone, and my treasure chest. This is poured over like an archaeological dig, with about the same success. Lots of fun old stuff.
The evening is spent watching "Arrested development" and eating enough cherries to make myself a little ill.
I figure if I'm going to be sick anyway...

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Trip-Day the First, In which I arrive, make camp, and fall in love with architecture.

Stepping off the plane, the sun was rising over a tidy line of green bushes, it even smells differently. Mike says Alberta is the Texas of Canada, but I like how they both smell. Waiting for my embarrassingly over packed luggage, I think of my carry-on, with a ziploc container of cheesecake. I wonder if I'll eat it. I know it's good, but it's awful fun to watch it squish.

Donna takes us to Jasmine's new house, and I'm astounded by it. Stained glass over the living room window, tiny wood carvings across the peaked roof. The living room, front room; bright colors, red and orange, green circular plush chair at my knees, a chandelier that, even dusty, makes me stare. The kitchen looks like a colonial transplanted back to America's 50's scene. Donna shows us the hard wood floor, tragically covered in carpet. Ugly carpet. Tells us how she's going to rip it up, sand off the glue, varnish the wood, build a staircase to the dust filled attic that takes my breath away, light filtering in. I wonder, idly, if she means she'll hire someone to come in. I stop wondering when she shows us the immaculate wall she made to replace a shoddy one.

We pile back into the white Toyota, driving home past the Kellogg factory, smelling of baking corn flakes. Arriving home, we disperse to sleep, my bed sounding like a herd of a angry badgers farting. I text some key loved ones to announce my safety, then liberally sprinkle my pillow with drool.
"Come fix the deck with me!"
Off Jas's room is a balcony shading the porch. The wood is all rotted and it takes us less then half an hour to pull it all up, garnering 6 cents and a rusty bottle cap. We'll burn the wood later in the fireplace, and set down new planks on the deck.
After gleefully discovering the old record player also accommodates CDs and tapes, I dance on the black and white tiled floor, imagining ice cream later.

Even the street lights here have more character; fat little hanging fruits, ripe on metal poles.

The Ice cream list at a place called "Merla Mae's" floors me. A staggering array of fabulous sundae (yes, sundae) options, as if they'd robbed a bakery, fruit stand, and candy store, depositing the swag on vanilla soft serve. I sacrifice one with roasted macadamias and hot fudge for a "beam me up, Scotty": Irish cream, coffee, and bananas.
It is really fabulous and I even try a bit of Mike's apple crumble, despite the hated caramel.
We drive with a French exchange student named Guillaume, who is staying at Donna's, finishing his master's, to Stratford on Avon, where we marvel at the old buildings,see the theater where "Pirates of Penzance" was filmed, and discover I am terrified of hissing ducks, swans, and brake pedals. Wandering along the river, I'm surprised that the swans and ducks don't move, no matter how close you get. They stare at you, arrogant and superior like High Level's Ravens. I test their nerves and mine by edging closer and closer until one rears up and honks, sending me scurrying. I hide behind Mike to snap some photos, then mock them from the safety of the car.
The beach at Lake Huron underwhelms me. Fairly cold and windy, full of loud people and garbage, it's the first thing I've seen that doesn't knock me on my ass. We take a walk, decide there are too many clouds to watch a pretty sunset, dare each other to admonish the couple we're pretty sure is having sex under the blanket undulating on the beach, then depart.
On the way home Donna points out the Roman Line, (where the black Donnelly's were killed, a fascination of mine for many years) and an old house she grew up in, that she and her family had built, with a pool in the back.
I face-plant into bed, this one mercifully silent of animals' digestion tracts.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Holy European, Batman!

I will be using this blog as my main spot for highlights of my Europe trip.
The itinerary?
July 1st, leave for London, Ontario
July 8th, Leave for London, England
July 13th, Leave for Rome, Italy,
July 20th, Leave for Toronto
July 21st, Leave for Edmonton.

these are the timings.
Hope things go well!
Meh, I've got travel insurance.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

At this moment.

I don't think I have ever felt so beautiful, nor so put together as I do at this moment. Today started terribly, but with one gesture, my day has been immeasurably redeemed.
A good way to post my 100th post, no?
Overall, It's been a life of joy, of joy unending.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

I have come to a conclusion

I will never have children. Ever. Unless I can completely bypass the years that they can't speak in. I'll be like the Maori people of New Guinea; "If you can't talk, you aren't really human!"

I thought for many years, "Of Course I'll want kids eventually!"
But after tonight, babysitting my nephew. I've changed my mind.
My programming is undone.
No babies.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007


Well, I went into a panic, thinking I had lost my damn blog, couldn't log on, was wondering how I'd transfer it to my new Gmail and all, when I found it again by logging in properly.
Ahh, Panic. My old friend.

Oh man. Things are going good. Like, really good. Classes are going well, I've applied to graduate, My relationship is going really (really!) well, and summer is coming soon. All I need to confirm is whether or not I will have a job come July; and decide whether to keep my half of the condo or not. It would be nice to have essentially free property. I keep it at the risk of it lowering in value, tho, but with the LRT coming down my way, I think the price is fairly reasonable. It would also be nice to have a place to keep, and know that I can crash at anytime, but do I want the hassle of being a landlord? What happens if the housing bubble cracks, and it effectively halves in value? Plus, If I do get a job in the military, I wouldn't want to stay here anyway. especially since I have no vehicle?

Hmm. More things to ponder.
Ah well.

Did I mention how well things are going relationship-wise? Dude.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Wo de mama

I've been thinking for while about family. Mostly about my mother, to be precise. Lately I've also been wondering where my life is going, what I want to do with it. To be honest, I have no idea what I would consider a full complete life to be like. What it would accomplish.
But when I think of my mom, and all the time she devoted to raising us, and everything. It makes me realize I'd like to be someone like her. Maybe not raising kids (who knows) but able to live with the grace, dignity, and wisdom she does.
I've realized how beautiful my mom is.
And that I would like to have the strength she has.
It may not be a life flow-chart, but it's a start.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Last stupid blog post

You Are An ENFJ

The Giver

You strive to maintain harmony in relationships, and usually succeed.
Articulate and enthusiastic, you are good at making personal connections.
Sometimes you idealize relationships too much - and end up being let down.
You find the most energy and comfort in social situations ... where you shine.

You would make a good writer, human resources director, or psychologist.

This sure as hell isn't the twist at the end.

The Movie Of Your Life Is Film Noir

So what if you're a little nihilistic at times?
Life with meaning is highly over-rated.

Your best movie matches: Sin City, L. A. Confidential, Blade Runner

Monday, March 12, 2007

I guess I'm mature now.

Because I've run out of thyme.

That's funny because I mean time as in, I'm old now, and thyme as in I realized I have ceased to have my most favorite spice in the world, and it blows my mind that I could have a preference for something long enough to use it all up.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

This will tottally help you get to know me

High School: School of hard knocks

Junior High: Kindergarten of getting the shit kicked out of me
Favorite Soda: I'll have none of your damned carbonate crap!! only heathful shit for me! or booze...
Favorite fruit: anything really crunchy. Like a lightbulb. Are lightbulbs fruit?
Favorite weather: Rain on a day I have tiny easy errands to finish. Like graves to dig.
Like someone: broiled.

Want more piercings: I cried like a little bitch when I got my ears pierced. so, yah.

Want a tattoo: A full body, Life-size tattoo of me, only taller.

Last person talked to/texted on the phone? I don't really text people when I'm talking to them.
Blue or red?: My steaks red, my smurfs blue, and my questions less ambiguous

Do you speak a different language?:I speak acceptable french, Sign quite effectivly, and speak enough Chinese to order food.
How old do you act?: Like a 3 legged race between an 70 year old women and a 9 year old boy
Do you have any pets? A few friends, wait... do you mean housetrained? No, then.

The 4 W's Questions:
Whos in the room with you? Depends on what religon you subscribe to...
What was the last thing you ate?: Deep-fried mars bar
What was the last thing you drank?: Badly deep-fried mars bar

What color pants are you wearing?: Who needs pants when you've got rogaine?
What is the closest item near you that is blue: My 10 year old honduran boy, but he'll give up soon.
What instant messaging service do you use?: Smoke signals
Where do you sleep?: K. Getting creeped out again. wid da fishes!
Where did you get the shirt you are wearing?: Your binocs can't see the tag? shame sha

__Which is Better With The Opposite Sex __

Cute or pretty: Male.
Lips or Eyes: Eyes properly cooked, Lips in a salad tho.

Hugs or Kisses: Having my hair petted on a bus.
Short or Tall:Tall enough to change the lightbulbs.
Easygoing or serious: Easy enough to sleep with, serious enough to do it well.
Romantic or Spontaneous: like spontaneous combustion?

Muscular or Skinny: Skinny enough for me to fold into my luggage.

Hook-up or Relationship: Depends on how much GHB I have...

Sweet or Caring: Are these opposites?

___Have You Ever___

Drank Bubbles?: Does tossing someone's salad count? How about if it was frothy? (sorry, that was bad)

Lost glasses/contacts: Nope. But I've found a couple. You just pop those suckers in your mouth for a sec or two, and then they're fine!
Broken Someones Heart?:Physically or metaphorically?
Had your heart broken?: Do heart murmurs count?

___Do You Believe In___

God: If he's listening, yes, yes I do.

Miracles: I've been proposed to twice. what do you think?
Love At First Sight: First sight is the only place unfettered love CAN exist. once you get to know someone... crap shoot.
Aliens: Alien what? plantlife? certainly. Bacteria? without a doubt. Sentience? Dunno.

Magic: Just cuz you know how it's done doesn't make it not magic.

Heaven: what else could you call Saturdays?

Hell: What else could you call a wasted Saturday?

Horoscopes: They work. Is that real then? People believe them. They are cultivated to be true no matter what.
Boogers: As a metaphor for existential philosophy, yes. As a food group, no.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Akroma's Boyfriend creation table

There's been a girlfriend creation table floating around, so I figured this one should respond.
(This'll probably crack me up to about 12 crazy, but it's worth it...)
Ugly: At 10, you're not sure what age he is, 12, what gender, 14 what species, 16, what state
Immature: at 10, he'll call you "mommy", 12 in bed, 14 wants you to change his diapers, 16 breastfeeding.
Obsessive: at 10, he'll try to recruit you into his obsession, 12 asks you to drink the punch, 14, doesn't ASK you to drink the punch, 16 he's not even your boyfriend
Cheap: 10, you go dutch, 12, he'll save receipts "to be fair", 14, calculates how much gas you use in his car, 16, how much oxygen you use.
Rude:8, offends your family, 10 at first meeting, 12 and your ancestors, 14 without opening his mouth, 16 or being in the same room.
Stupid: 5, he'll ask for homework help, 8 with high school homework, 12, with a speak 'n' say, 14, with a book, 16 with a pamphlet
Macho: 10, he'll sleep with your friend, 12 your sister, 14 your mother, 16 all of them,18 at once.
Inattentive: 8 if you leave him, he won't know why, 10 or if you cry, 12 or get mad, 14 or die, 16 or live

Perks for flaws:
0 flaws- he's gay.
5 remembers important dates
7 does something for important dates
9 gives a crap in bed

Thursday, March 01, 2007

All your exams are belong to me!

Is it sad that I am so jubiliant because I garned a 60% on my psych midterm?
Probably not...
Aw man! It was so good! I got over 100% on one section!
PLUS I pwnd my comp 101 midterm this morning. As a gleeful celebration my weekend has started already, despite it being Thursdy. (while, since I don't technically have any classes, it's kind of a moot point) I'm gonna go choke myself with ice cream and BOOZE.

Monday, February 26, 2007

Now with more sodium!

God, I feel like if I turn my head too rapidly, psychology will splash all over my monitor.
After all the damn reading I've done over the past week (I'll be a big girl and refrain from making a joke about how I'm reading over reading week, hurr hurr) I should be prepared for this midterm. But now my cortex feels like a burning hatred behind my eyes. I think perhaps my temporal lobe has simply become electrified.
On a happier note, I'm starting to feel quite confident that my application to the military will be approved. For heaven's sake I have a dratted clean bill of health, a desire to run around the mud filled fields, and a large bladder capacity. What more could they want?
Oh right, that whole "reassurance that I will not shoot their people in the back of the head while they are unawares."

Saturday, February 24, 2007

When I just close my eyes...

When I was short and waif-like, and happy in my shortness, and my ignorance, and youth, I would curl into a little ball and hide myself in my ceder-lined hope chest. and just breathe in the wonderful smell and daydream.
Now I have a mortgage and credit cards, and a thrice-broken little heart, and a career path, and guilt, and sadness, and age, and grey hairs. And a little teapot in a ceder box. and I pour myself green tea, and breathe.
And somehow, I'm happier now.

Monday, February 19, 2007


Fuck you world! scrotum!!!
It's a golramm body part!!!

In other news;
Baptism went well. Yah! so no more baby being sent to limbo! I was also surprised because I expected baby to freak ("wtf? water, OMG!?") but he was fabulous! quiet, well-mannered, not squirmy. but then again, he has my genes, hehe.

On another note:
Things are going well between the ex and I. I think this friendship may actually work! holy-shit!
So there all you Nay-sayers who believe you can't be friends with an ex!! I'm onna fuckin do it twice!!! HA! ...I hope....

On a final note:

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Anna Nicole Smith

I've gotta admit, I feel kinda lost in a world without her.
She seemed kinda trashy, but I never saw a picture of her without her smiling in it. I kinda like that. I feel like people must have when they found out Marilyn Monroe died. Weird. Could also be because I've never been close to anyone who has died, but celebrities feel strangely close, since we follow their lives in tabloids so avidly.
Well, that's pretty much it for today. Pretty mindless, but I'm trying to distract myself. If I don't succeed I'm going to have to sit down and read the 5 articles I just downloaded on neural plasticity and perception. I should because I need them for Thursday, but...well...I just don't CARE right now.
Things are going better tho.
I knew I just needed a night of Karaoke and Sake. : P

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Mark Rothko Song

Words and music by dar williams

The blue it speaks so full
It’s like the beauty one can barely stand
Or too much things dropped in your hand
And there’s a green like the peace
In your heart sometimes
Printed underneath the sheets of ashy snow
And there’s a blue like where the urban angels go, very bright
Now the calder mobile tips a biomorphic sphere
Then it swings it’s dangling pieces
Round to other paintings here

Your behavior is so male
It’s like you can’t explain yourself to me
I think I’ll ask renoir to tea
For his flowers are as real as they are all the time
And the sunlight sets the furniture aglow
It’s a pleasant time as far as people go, how far do they go?
Well his roses are perfect and his words have no wings
I know what he can give me and I like to know these things

I met her at the funeral
She said I don’t know what he meant to me
I just know he affected me
An effect not unlike his art,
I believe

The service starts and we are in the know
He had so much to say but more to show, and ain’t that true of life?
So we weep for a person who lived at great cost
Yet we barely knew his powers till we sensed that we had lost

A friend and I in a museum room
She says, look at mark rothko’s side
Did you know about his suicide?
Some folks were born with a foot in the grave, but not me, of course
And she smiles as if to say we’re in the know
Then she names a coffee place where we can go, uptown
Now the painting is desperate, but the crowds wash away
In a crowd of kind pedestrians who’ve seen enough today


Alright you seething, slobbering internet masses. I'm on Livejournal now. Not because I wanna be, but because I feel i have to. (to the person who's forced me to this level, I'm gonna get you...)
My username is jhagerkin.
Yes. Jhagerkin. DEAL WITH IT.
Pretty much everything else I liked was taken.
Chelle, miChelle, Lhuci, LhuChelle.
fricken internets.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

this is it

Okay, If I can just stop being stupid , and wholeheartedly botching my life up, 2007 is gonna be the best year ever. I can tell. It's glistening with shiny, oily, awesome.
It'd just be nice if the shiny, glistening awesomeness didn't cause me to fall on my face so Golramm much.
What I need is some crotchety old Codger, full of wisdom and vinegar, to tell me what to do. Yah, fricken Clint Eastwood to come along and set me right.
Anyway, what I got is my poor little, overused brain desperately trying to avoid fucking up.
I can sense the inevitable fuck-up looming. It's terrible and all-consuming.
It's gonna kill me, and you know what?
I totally deserve it.
I'm a bad person.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007


WOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Monday, January 08, 2007

New Year

I am euphoric on a floating sea of bliss.
The New Year, hotly awaited by yours truly, has proved to be a blessing, indeed.
I received the exciting news that I do have collision, which means I will be receiving money for the heap of rubble that is my old car (yippee) my family appears to like my boyfriend, things are going better between me and him, I have no bills to be paid, no pressing meetings, and am awaiting paperwork for the military. Again.
The only slight raincloud dampening my sights is the fact that I appear to be two courses short of graduation specifics. but I only have one space for a course, and cannot take any junior level courses. Ah sigh.
But I have to look forward to a delicious one month backpacking trip through Europe as a "yah me, I survived and moderately flourished, I am a big tough woman, Fremo, I can handle life" celebration.
Well, less nauseating posts and more brain-food later.