This Blog Is Moving For 2 Months

Hello! As I'm sure you may have heard from all the various news reports and covers on magazine stands, I am going to China TOMORROW Monday, May 7!

Holy shit! You're probably thinking to yourself. How can I keep in touch with Emily when everyone knows that China is slightly neurotic and blocks access to facebook, twitter, blogger, and wordpress thereby rendering all current social media irrelevant? Well, the hidden gem that China has not yet discovered, at least not last year, is tumblr! So I will direct your attention to THE ONLY WAY I WILL HAVE NOT-PRIVATE CONTACT WITH THE WORLD AT LARGE:

thisisntpaper.tumblr.com

this
isnt
paper
dot
tumblr
dot
com

essentially I will be moving my blog to tumblr for 2 months.

also my email is in my blogger profile if you want to contact me directly regarding future photoshoots or interviews.

This year I'm actually going to try and document the majority of my trip which will be easier, I think, because I won't be in a classroom and because I'm bringing a digital camera. Also I'll have my cell phone which will really just be my ipod that takes pictures please don't call me.

Now that that nonsense out of the way, I just want to sort of comment on something. People keep asking me "what are you going to do in China?" and I never know what to say because I find this question very confusing. It's like when someone tells you they're going on vacation to NYC and you ask them what they're going to do there. Well, they're going to eat and drink and see all the touristy shit and be in New York. Unfortunately we're only going to be in NYC for one night; in China Rachel and I are going to sit in our tiny un-air conditioned hostel rooms and not talk to each other for two months.

when you wait for the dawn to crawl through the screen like a burglar to take your life away*

I am a 20 year old getting my BA in Creative Writing with a minor in Political Science and yeah, I know those are two completely different things.

My therapist told me there are steps to becoming [x]. Like there are steps to becoming anything. Like if I want to be a writer then I have to do this this this this this this and this and this like everybody else and then I will be a writer. And if I want to be something else then I will have to do all the steps to become that. I said I feel like I should be doing more things right now. I said my life feels boring and like a habit. My therapist said what did I expect I am an undergrad I am doing all that I am supposed to be doing right now.

I grew up thinking there was a world of possibilities for me. I could be anything. Anything! Anything in the whole world! When I was 12 we had to present a project to our class of what we wanted to be when we grew up. I wanted to be a hockey player. I told my teacher I didn't need to learn math because I would be a hockey player and I could pay someone to be my agent and do that shit for me. I wanted to go to the olympics.

Then I learned that women cannot (yet) be professional hockey players (unless you're Hayley Wickenheiser (but you're not)); they have to pay to play and have jobs on the side. Or, really, have a job and play hockey on the side. And there are 80 trillion people in Canada who play hockey, and ~23 players on the olympic hockey team, so, yeah, you do the math. I can't.

Anyways, the moral of that little story is that I learned I can't be just anything. So in high school I decided I wanted to be a writer, which was the other thing I was good at. I liked to write fiction but I really wanted to be a poet because I loved to read and write it. Cool, but you know where this is going right. The moral of this story is that I can write poetry but I can't be T.S Eliot (toilets) and I had good ending for this sentence but I can't remember it.

Blah, blah. That's depressing, yada, yada. But I'm still doing what I like to do, which is nice. Only now, instead of being confident that YES I WILL BE A MOTHERFUCKING WRITER LIKE JK ROWLING i am terrified by the statistics and the idea that I will have to work a part-time job at American Eagle to make rent because only 5 people will read my poems and only 1 person will buy it because everything is available online for free. And I am terrified that I'm only average. That my writing is mediocre. That I am good, but just "good", and not like, Irving Layton Award Finalist good. You know? Ever felt like you were just "average"?

I was wondering, as I left my therapists office, when adults lose their sense of possibility. When is this shift from thinking there's more than one way to do things, to being convinced that everyone who doesn't walk in a straight line is lost? I feel like I am on the cusp of maybe realizing that I do need to do this this this this this this and this and this to "become" a "writer". And I'm doing it? I am totally following this nice little path that's been paved for me. Is a BA is the new high school diploma? What is life?

Part of me is trying to cling to this idealistic rebellious free-thinker hopeful defy-all-odds mover shaker dreamer achiever view of the world. Is the 'real world' a box that, once you go inside of, you can never get out of?

Katrina dropped out of college but she's one of the smartest people I know. And when she writes, she has 10 times more stories to tell than I do. See, I want to be a writer, but I don't have much to say, which might be a weird thing for me to say as I've had this blog for over 2 years now.

It all just sounds average to me. Like everyone else feels the same way as me and we are all going to write the same thing.

*bukowski wrote this

st laurent to mont-royal

When we climbed up to the top of the mountain it was like 4am and I was pretty drunk. It was cold it was sometime in November I think. No, it must've been October because Ryan didn't hate me yet. It was just me and him and Karen and I think Ryan liked her at that time. I liked Casey but she kept getting me down. That night I had seen her outside the bar sitting on some other guy's lap and ignoring me, well screw that.Why do girls do that. Let's go to the mountain Ryan said. You'll feel better. So we went up the mountain and I was feeling pretty down and Ryan and Karen were racing each other. Karen was so fast it was like they were so free and I felt heavy 'cause I couldn't run as fast as them. But when we got to the top the air was so fresh and I didn't care about anything anymore. Except maybe I was feeling down that Ryan and Karen were making eyes at each other. We stuck ourselves in a telephone booth to keep warm and wait for the sunrise. We must've listened to Bon Iver because whenever I hear "re:stacks" I think of running up the mountain and the view and the cold air. But later that song would come to mean something else to me and that was alright. The sunrise wasn't even that good I think it was on the other side of the mountain. But after that night I didn't care about Casey anymore. We went down the mountain and I was feeling pretty good about it and I fell asleep on the bus.

That was all before Karen moved to Thailand and I met Lainey who's a good girl. I don't get drunk anymore but sometimes I miss those days when it hurt to breathe. I guess no one's hurt me like that since then so I never needed to go back. Everyone changes I learned so we just grew up like everyone else. And growing up doesn't mean not fitting in telephone boxes anymore it means not wanting to or not even being there to do it. Shouting "fuck you Casey!" into the night doesn't mean anything anymore. When we were young we used to hear our voices ring around the city, now we just hear it in our heads. We don't let people get us down like Casey got me down anymore. But sometimes I miss climbing the mountain thinking that's what love is.

How To Cook Everything

Every day we wake up we promise to be better. We promise ourselves to make changes. We want to love more, love better, try harder. We can do anything we want to.

I will stop worrying about money. I will live better. Maybe not tomorrow, but today at least. That's all I can give. That's all I can promise. For today to be better, at least.

I am not growing in a straight line. I want to learn to love you more.

By now you're probably wondering why this is titled "How To Cook Everything" when there is clearly nothing about cooking here. The answer is that "How To Cook Everything" is a cookbook that is right next to me and I'm avant garde like that. JK.

i was walking with a ghost

i walked up the mountain because i wanted you to see it. i thought maybe if i were there, you would be there too. i thought maybe i would find you at the top, as if you'd been waiting for me this whole time.

in the middle of the night we can walk in the middle of the road. we can run and jump and skip and it's just us alive. we can be the tallest city mark.

the trees are littered with gold and red and orange. the sunrise is kind of perfect. i know you'd be impressed, i know impressing you would make my heart swell. when i'm with you, i am a balloon on fire. it is the most wonderful feeling. and i think the edge of the world is on fire, which makes your sweater warm enough for the both of us. i'm in love with the way you see the world.

i am so, so, so.

i keep my hands in my pockets, as if i could shrug off the rain. i want to listen to re: stacks because it seems fitting, but i'm not quite sure i could bear it. i meant to leave my heavy heart at the top of the city, to burn with the sun, but it's right there in my pocket and it carries me down the road. you stayed at the top of the mountain to burn with the tops of the trees, and i? i am so. i am so, so, so.

This Is An Important Lesson About Seizing The Day

"Sad things: I came back for my shoes and someone had bought them. I feel more bothered than I should be. guess I should learn to carpe diem or something."

Some days I wake up and feel like SEIZING THE MOTHERFUCKING DAY. Some days I wake up and feel like sleeping the day. This is fine because our society is not set up for all people to seize all days all the time.

"Seizing the day" relies on the idea that the future is unknowable. That means that you could die in 5 minutes or tomorrow morning or right now. If you die right now, the last thing you will have done is read these words. Is that how you want your last seconds to be spent? Have you accomplished everything you wish you could have ever accomplished before you died? No. You haven't. The goal of seizing the day is to MOTHERFUCKING DO THINGS YEAH because everyone knows you regret the things you didn't do more than the ones you did. It's better to try something than to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.

If I died right now my grave would read:

Emily Choo

[dates]

Daughter,

Girlfriend,

Unpublished author,

Employee of American Eagle

Um, LAME. I mean, of course, there is tons of shit that I have done but it's too long to fit on a tombstone. If I were to operate on the "carpe diem" philosophy based on my fake tombstone and the idea that I will die tomorrow, I would quit my job right the fuck now. Then, most likely, I would wake up tomorrow, still alive, and then I might die and my tombstone would read:

Emily Choo

[dates]

Daughter,

Girlfriend,

Unpublished author,

Unemployed

The thing about seizing the day is that humans have habits and responsibilities that lie beyond the face of "today". So how do you seize the day when you have a bunch of shit that you don't want to do? What if you have to do shit that you don't want to do today so that you can be happy tomorrow? We can't skydive every day, you know.

The answer is this (I am telling you the answer to life, the universe, and everything): 42.

Jk.

The answer is to seize the day some days. Seize the day on important days. Buy the shoes, but keep your job. Do your homework, but when you go out, make it count.

Here is some good advice from my favourite TV show 30 Rock:

Live every week like it's shark week.

Dress every day like you're going to get murdered in those clothes.

And some of my personal advice:

When the time comes for someone to write your obituary, make sure they have something to write about.

Emily Choo

[dates]

Seized the day,

most days.

Things The World Is Trying To Convincing Me Of

+ I have breast cancer

+ I have brain cancer

+ My body is eating me from the inside out

+ I don't exist

+ I will never complete a full to-do list

+ I need therapy

+ I need to eat healthier

+ I need to exercise more

+ My breasts are going to be saggy

+ Getting old is the apocalypse

+ 25 is old

+ I need to grow up

+ University is a waste of time (why does the world convince me of this?)

+ University will get me a job

+ We're all going to die in 2012

+ Everything is going to be fine

+ Mo' money, mo' problems

+ My plane is going to be hijacked

+ I need to have children

+ There are too many children

+ I need to be more cultured

+ I need more money

+ STOP PANICKING

+ I need to panic

+ I can be anything even superman

+ Good things come to those who wait

+ Seize the day

+ I don't know enough

+ I'm lazy

+ I know too much

+ I don't read enough

+ I'm going to get cancer from smoking, second-hand smoke, using my cell phone to call people, microwaves, hair dye, x- rays, asbestos, bottled water, chips, genes, deodorant, chinese food, coffee, sunblock, bleach, orange juice, pesticides, low cholesterol, everything on this list, stress, obesity, white bread, cookies, crackers, everything yummy, alcohol, artificial flavours, being a woman, being a man, bubble baths, fake nails, lipstick, menstruating, pizza, redbull, tattoos, sex, shaving, third-hand smoke, everything in the whole world except tomatoes and the sun

+ Technology is evil

+ Technology is the best thing ever

+ I should live in the woods

+ We're all the same

+ I'm a unique and special snowflake

+ I'm depressed

+ I have ADD

+ I'm schizophrenic

+ I'm bipolar

+ I'm OCD

+ I have an anxiety disorder

+ I need to be a STRONG POWERFUL INDEPENDENT WOMAN

+ I need 5 jobs

+ Wikipedia is not a valid source of information

+ Everyone is scared so shutup

+ Nikki needs a chandelier

+ There are spies among us

+ Spiders won't eat me in my sleep

+ I need to be famous to accomplish things

+ I need to love more

+ I need to love less

+ I have SARS

+ I'm going to hell

+ Hell is not a real place

+ There's an app for that

+ I need to be kinder

+ I need to be more patient

+ I need to do things for myself

+ Shakespeare was the greatest writer of all time

+ I need to stop being so hard on myself

+ People care

+ No one cares

+ The answer is somewhere else

+ I need to follow my heart

+ I need to listen to my brain

+ The arts are a waste of time

+ I need to recycle more

+ I need to learn how to drive

+ I need to drink more water

+ I need a crutch

+ Drugs are bad

+ I'm stupid

+ I'm smarter than you

+ I need to leave my house

+ There is no cure

+ There is a God

+ There is no God

+ CLEAN ALL THE THINGS

+ I NEED MORE MONEY

+ I NEED MORE EXPERIENCE

+ I NEED MORE CULTURE

+ I NEED MORE THINGS

+ I NEED LESS THINGS

+ I NEED A TOOLBOX

+ I NEED TO TRAVEL

+ I NEED TO HAVE FUN

+ I NEED TO CALM DOWN

+ I'M ABNORMAL

+ I'M NORMAL

+ MONEY

+ SEIZE THE DAY

+ TRAVEL

+ MONEY

+ JOBS

+ INDEPENDENCE

+ MONEY

+ NO SLEEP

+ SEIZE THE DAY

+ MONEY

+ ORGANIZE

+ SETTLE

+ CLEAN ALL THE THINGS

+ MONEY

+ MENTAL DISORDERS

+ DISEASES

+ GOVERNMENT

+ EQUALITY

+ MONEY

+ POWER

+ FAME

+ CLEAN ALL THE THINGS

+ EXTINCTION

+ POTATOES

+ DIY

ETC. FOREVER AND EVER OMG

I've Been Distracted

the trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last (blindsided)

iv.

overstepping my boundaries for the first time. this is what happens when you write yourself into a corner and cover yourself with words that mash together into one incoherent mass of letters.

the morning was a love letter. the night is a taking back of sorts, a retraction and a removal of the early fog. perfection is so hard to retain. it's a standing at the top of a mountain; one step in every direction is down, and sometimes the fall is just free. is the point of it all to stand still? we will never get anywhere.

now every letter counts. every word counts more than the next, till the taste of your name is heavy on my tongue. so my speech is slurred, so i'm t-t-tired, so i can't spit it out. i lift books during the day like weights. i hope there's something in this universe waiting for me in the sky, 'cause i'm headed there, i'm headed there and i'd like to float around. i'd like to write your name between the clouds. this [blank] is such a mess.

v.

why'd you leave?

i miss you and i never had you. i get you mixed up with everyone i know. i see you everywhere, like you never left, but you just don't recognize me. would i want you if i had you?

i made a wish, threw my heavy heart to the bottom of the pool.

it always comes back to you. i saw a baby once, sitting on her mother's lap. she looked at me with blue eyes and smiled. her mother kissed her, the cheek. the baby was completely unaware. i wanted to cry for everything i had lost.

there's no way to get it back. the words i've said, those individual little letters that hardly mean anything at all, they've gotten away from me.

"those who've gotten away from me:

read this, and call.

those whom i've hurt:

i wanted everything, or not enough.

it was all my fault."

words don't call back and accept apologies. they lie there, on real pages or on virtual ones, existing. i caused them all.

the baby didn't know who she was. did she feel the kiss on her cheek? did she put her tiny finger to the spot, afterwards, to feel some remnants of love or the moisture of soft lips? in the worst way possible i wanted to steal her memory, but there is none of that.

vi.

mother, i'm terribly, terribly afraid of everything [she] loves. why is life so fragile?

it's hard to find it when you knew it

[bon iver - re:stacks]

this song used to remind me of being drunk at 3am on st. laurent. it used to remind me of a skinny bitch who wound my heart in circles. it reminded me of the top of the mountain, of walking home alone in the morning and feeling like nothing. just feeling nothing but [there is no ending to this sentence]

everything that happens is from now on.

okay, so what, i cried on the way home. maybe it was because i was thinking of the rejection letter sitting in my inbox, or maybe it was because the lady who stamped my ticket at penn station was mean. maybe it was because i hate penn station. it was probably because i had my period but it was also because my heart was unwinding slowly and falling loosely at the sides. i’m sorry it’s the most useless thing in the world.

now this song makes me think of sitting on the kitchen floor with a can of pabst blue ribbon and a bottle of gin, singing to a girl because she listened.

this is pouring rain,
this is paralyzed.

my own resolution was to stop being so afraid of having what i want. it wasn’t a new year’s resolution, it was a life’s resolution; to live with no regrets because i had to at least try to achieve everything i wanted and stop being so damn scared of everything. but i’m always so terrified of moving because then the earth might move with me. everyone else is terrified but i don’t know of what. i thought too much about it, was too much like prufrock to follow up when she lay down next to me in the sun. now our feet won’t touch the ground and it’s a big scary leap. it’s too much for me to lean over two inches and kiss you on the mouth. i felt stupid, thinking of all the people who might do it better than me.

you were right, you were right about everything. the best parts are the ones that can’t be talked about. i can’t explain it to anyone. you have no idea what you do to me.

the fountain in the front yard is rusted out

all my love was down

in a frozen ground.

++

the first time i left new york the world seemed so big. penn station loomed above me as i stepped out of the cab, fearful and exhausted. the morning seemed wet and dry; everybody knew where they were going and i trudged down the stairs, down to my doom, the 11 hour train ride away from the iconic days of summer 2009. a mark on the calendar for everyone.

my eyes were open those few days. my mouth was open too, with laughter and wine. other things happened that i’ve already written down, memorized too well. i can’t talk about them. i can talk about them. i didn’t know [redacted] at that time. i just thought i did so i let her and i let myself go. i was surprised by her move. i can’t talk about it.

time, later; months. outside with itchy lips. i wanted to but it physically hurt. i can’t talk about it. itchy lips. we discussed instead.

++

time, later; now. wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday; in arms but not the kind that kill you, just the kind that wound and invoke heartache. i said i wish i had kissed you in the kitchen. i wish i had kissed you on the roof. i wished i had kissed you on the floor in the sun. i wish i had kissed you when you said “everything” and i wish i had kissed you everywhere.

the wait/weight is really quite too much, it's really very perfect it felt long but that's how it was different from every other time with every other person. it was really quite too much and now i know why you said "everything" because sometimes it really just feels like "everything".

it was just different because it meant something. because i waited, because you waited, till there was no other option but to ignite fireworks, finally, and fear and trembling at your touch.

that was it, you totally had me, you can have all of me.

this is not the sound of a new man

or a crispy realization.

it's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away

your love will be

safe with me.

It's My Birthday and I'll Cry If I Want To

Hello! On Wednesday I posted a bunch of lists about things. Today I'm going to continue that trend with one special list: 3290902 Reasons Why I Am Awesome. It's true that this list could make me sound really pretentious and stuck up but I have justifications, I swear. Firstly, if you know me personally I think you'll know that I'm a pretty modest person. I'm also honest. I think it's important to be honest with yourself, that's why I'm making this list. Also if you're Brooke Levin, you probably approve of this. Secondly, it's my birthday. Therefore, I deserve to feel good about myself. Notice I haven't made a list of my flaws. You can read that list at the shoreline receding.

Reasons Why I Am Awesome

1. I have feelings and lots of them.

2. I can write relatively well. I write poetry and short stories and this blog and sometimes I write for Autostraddle.

3. Also I work for Autostraddle. I should just end the list here (but I won't).

4. I play the guitar kinda okay ish and I write bad songs. But points for trying, right?

5. I can also play the bass and drums and keyboard kinda okay ish.

6. I take pictures.

7. I have good taste in music. Srsly.

8. I like to travel. Traveling is fun. It also makes me cool.

9. I'm a good friend (I think/hope?). I love them, anyway.

10. Even though it scares me I do it anyway. Cause I seize the day. Most days.

11. I'm funny.

12. I have an open mind.

13. I can use a computer. You might be like "obvs" at this one, but srsly some people are just slower than others. Don't judge them.

14. I'm kinda cute/I have a nice ass. OK NOW THIS TIME IT'S NOT ME TALKING, I have multiple sources that tell me I have a nice ass. So there.

15. I have fucking nice teeth.

16. I'm smart. I also have justification for this statement, read:

"i think emily choo is a very bright, 'poetically inclined' girl who pays attention to everything and knows almost everything (the point of stuff, how to read, how beautiful things feel, how scary things feel, etc) but doesn't believe/accept/realize yet that she knows almost everything. it's actually better that way because she'll keep wanting to know more stuff. i think of emily choo as a "girl we like" and i "feel she is kickass" and that she "has a name that sounds cool so we like to say it as much as possible." and "i feel personally i would be sad if emily choo was really sad." i also 'feel like i am stoned right now' and 'probably talking crazy' while 'consciously writing in a style reminiscent of the Great Tao Lin'"

- marie lyn bernard

Probs the greatest compliment I've ever gotten from someone stoned. Also if you won't listen to me maybe you'll listen to her, but you should listen to me anyway because I know almost everything.

So yeah, I think that's it. Clearly you can see I'm almost perfect. Single ladies you better put a ring on it.

If You Want it to be Real Come Over For One Night and We Can Really, Really Climb

No attempt is made to explain away
the things that really, really, really, really, really are behind.
You can't hide.
- Okkervil River "For Real"

++

I found out on the metro, I mean -- I realized what I already knew -- that you're never going to call again. I figure that's okay, I guess. I tried/didn't try/didn't know what I was doing. But this is what I want you to know: no one knows what they're doing. It was my first time being born, my first time being 6, and 7, and 8, and feeling death -- my first time having a dead mother -- I don't know how to react -- does anyone? -- my first time in high school, first time learning the history of quebec, the geography of other people's bodies and mouths and hearts. It's my first time being 18, my first time living this day -- october 14th 2009 -- I'm never going to see this day again -- but how do I know what to do with it? So when I walked past you in the hall, so when I gave her that note, so when I avoided him on the way home; I was just living in my own weird way. I don't know if I'm doing it right. There's no instruction manual. I don't know if I should've said something else, or if this gets easier or more vivid. I don't think living gets easier, it just gets stranger. If I'm confusing it's because I'm confused.

I started reading the first couple of pages of this book and on page two I was told "love and ideals are not actually real". Oh, okay. I see it now.

Maybe it's because I have neither that I think this is untrue. Maybe I've read too many books, seen too many hollywood movies with romantic endings. Maybe I've been listening to too many songs that tell me love is the best sensation hiding in the lion's mane. I want love to be real, I need love to be real. I need ideals to be real because I idealize love in the worst way.

I slipped her a note in class, sat back and thought My life is a joke. After class she turned around, "Was this you who wrote this?"
Yes.
"Is this real?"

++

I'm just using you so I'll have a story to tell. So do your worst and I'll write my best. That's all I could ever hope for -- an experience so brilliant it will lift the words off the page. I'm running low on gas and I've kind of given up on you -- you, you'll never call. But now I'm asking you, come on, make it hurt! You're not killing me the way I want you to.

Come on, idealized love. I know you're real, I've felt you moving in me before.

And now I'm a walking contradiction. I wrote some days before -- notes in my phone -- But you're like, a real person. And I'm not. You're the kind of person who won't call back. And I'm not. I'll make you larger than you are. I'll write you into fiction, make you beautiful and smooth. But you're still real, you're just somebody else. I'm real too, but to other people. Maybe I passed you once before, before I knew you, and we slid by each other -- our worlds so close to touching -- your eyes straight, my head turned -- I didn't know you'd be real to me one day. Am I still outside your line?

++

I spend my days learning. I learn the curve of the hallways -- where the A wing is, the elusive F -- which bathrooms to use and when -- where to go when I'm alone -- and where to get on the metro so the doors open right in front of the stairs.

And when someone asks you if this is real, the answer is "Yes. Yes, of course it is." Because if this isn't real then I have nothing. If love isn't real then I -- we -- truly have nothing. You may call, or not. We might brush so close to each other again someday, maybe tomorrow. But I'll never have this day back, or that note, or this particular feeling walking home in a frustrated sorrow. I'll never be 6 again, or 7, or 8, my mom will never die again, I'll never be in high school for the first time. I'll learn new curves -- elbows and shoulders, lips -- meet other 'you''s and write other stories -- but I still won't know what I'm doing. It will still be the first time, it will still count, it will still be real. And I'll be here, taking notes.

Yes, this is real. This is very, very real.

Sometimes I Write Stories Because It's More Fun Than Facing Reality

Once there was a girl who sat at the bottom of a tree reading a book. She had short brown hair with blonde in it. It might have been blonde with brown in it. It's possible that this girl is someone you know. It's possible that you know this story because this might have happened to your planet.

It could have been smallearth. It could have been China, if China was its own planet.

The day the girl sat under a tree the planet began to blow away. Imagine Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It was kind of like that. People wore goggles to protect their eyes but soon it was useless, like people wearing masks to ward off the swine flu. Yeah, the swine flu got everyone there too.

The earth swirled and fell away and the planet got smaller and smaller. People fell off and disappeared, they just disappeared into nothingness and we don't know where they went. Do you ever get confused about space because it's so huge? What exactly is it? Where is cyberspace? Is that where you go when you die?

The girl remained at the bottom of the tree reading her book. Chaos ensued around her. The earth was steadily shrinking. Bits of it were falling away at an alarming rate. She kept reading. Go on, ask what she was reading. It was a book called "Across the Universe" by The Beatles an anonymous author. You can look it up but you won't find the book she was reading. She was reading a non-existant book.

The earth was being shaved off, as if God was filing his planet nails. Everything just fucking blew away, just gone, just like that. Soon there was only a tree attached to a clump of dirt and a girl reading a non-existant book on it. She finished reading and stepped off the planet.

What happens now? Everything I love is gone.

And In Short, I Was Afraid

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
though I have seen my head [grow slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet -- and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
and in short, I was afraid.

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

++

I have a fear of bikes. Really. I'm afraid of going too fast, afraid of losing control, afraid of getting hurt. I'm afraid of getting my pants stuck in the gears. I'm afraid of the gears ripping a hole in my leg.

It might be because of that time I hurtled full speed down the steepest hill my 6 year old eyes had ever seen and flipped over the handlebars. My aunt decided to walk her bike down but my cousin rode down so I did too. I just followed people in those days. I rode right into a pile of rocks and forgot what brakes were for.

I don't want to get hurt. Hurt, (how could you have forgotten?) hurts. I don't want to die.

++

I'm also afraid of horses, which is really stupid considering I went to horseback riding camp for two years. I followed my cousin there too.

It's not just that, though. I'm afraid of drowning. I like the air, I like the ground, and I like both to be readily available. Maybe it started in Mexico when I followed my cousins into the ocean and was gasping for breath, for control of something -- the water, the ground, my limbs maybe, -- something that would get me out of there. I discovered the ocean is beautiful from the shoreline.

I'm afraid of driving too fast. I don't even drive. It's not even the accident potential, it's the I'm-afraid-the-car-is-going-to-blow-up feeling, which is less likely to happen than an accident. I have no control. When I was little I never liked when my dad twisted and swerved. As the highway whizzed by I quietly imagined car crashes in the backseat.

I guess it goes without saying that I'm afraid of airplanes too. I don't want to crash in the ocean. I don't even think I'd make it to the ocean, let alone the emergency exit. I'm afraid of the oxygen masks the lady in the video so calmly puts on, like the last seconds of her life aren't just ticking away. I like my own air. I like my feet on the ground. Real ground.

Maybe it started some eight years ago, when I suddenly realized I was about to fly over the ocean in a giant piece of metal. I was going to England with my grandmother and I was about to say goodbye to my dad. Maybe it was because I was afraid to leave, or maybe I was seized with a panic and certainty that we were going to crash. I refused to even go to the boarding gate. My grandmother cried, she thought I didn't want to go with her. And right then, I was afraid to tell the truth.

I can't control anything on a plane. Turbulence practically makes my heart stop. I don't want my last meal to be plastic chicken. I don't want to die in a place where no one outside the plane can reach me. I don't want to die in no man's land. I don't want to die. And I don't want to survive on a plank of wood because I don't want to be eaten by sharks and I don't want to die of starvation, 'cause then I'll really wish I'd eaten the plastic chicken. I don't want my last meal to be plastic chicken.

I don't want to nosedive into the ground. If it wasn't clear, I'm also afraid of roller coasters.

Other things I am afraid of: Jumping too high on the trampoline, skiing down double black diamonds, skiing, cancer, hospitals, not recording everything because I am afraid of forgetting.

What it comes down to is this: I'm afraid of pain, and I'm afraid of dying because I'm not ready to go. Hurt hurts. Every single one of my fears is based on dying.

But more than that, I've been afraid to live. This is something I've known for a long time. I've felt it, as people moved faster than me in other directions, and I stood there because I'm too scared to move. This is something I've struggled with; how do people do it? How come my cousin went down the hill without a scratch? How come everybody I know likes to drive fast?

I'm afraid of the physical things and the mental things. I'm afraid of knowing things and not knowing things. I'm afraid I'm doing it all wrong.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
would it have been worth while,
after the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
after the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor --
and this, and so much more? --

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

++

It was Christmas 2008. The first time I had ever spent Christmas somewhere without snow.

I don't know why, but I'd just had the urge to go to California. I missed the weather, the clouds and the rolling fog, the ocean from from a safe distance, the big houses, the other world. I missed San Francisco, which felt safe, and Berkeley, which felt cool and homely.

It was fun to watch people walk down the street wrapped up in their jackets and hats and earmuffs in 11 degree weather. Somewhere north of the border there was a snowstorm happening.

I loved the decorations on the houses. Outside it looked like spring, and yet, there was santa on a roof. There were reindeer in the yard. It's weird to imagine Christmas with no snow but I loved that crisp feeling in the air. I loved the smell of Berkeley, the shops, the streets, the laughter. I loved my aunt's house, the sheets, the cat, breakfast in the morning. The colours of the flower petals were more vibrant, the food more organic. Yes, everything there is good, good, good. I felt good.

But it turns out there are scary things in Berkeley too. More things I'm scared of, like people. Also, there's me. Sometimes I'm scared to know who I really am. Sometimes I'm scared that someone might see me. You know, really see me.

There are also bikes in Berkeley.

And hills. Big hills.

Do I dare
disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

We decided to go for a bike ride on Christmas morning. I'm afraid of bikes. I used the smallest one, which even then was too big. I tried not to be afraid, but it's hard when you're afraid of everything.

Going for a bike ride up a hill with my family? The irony wasn't lost on me. I'm afraid of getting hit by a car.

The top of the hill was beautiful. I could see the whole city. I could see the clouds and the rolling fog, the houses with lights and decorations. I could see forests of trees which seemed to be greener than any I'd ever seen at home.

The only way back was down, down, down. My cousin began his descent easily, breezily. Even my aunt went ahead of me, experienced and steady. I started after them, slowly. I guess I still follow people. My cousin was way ahead. Occasionally I could see the back of my aunt's windbreaker, puffed up with the wind, at the corner of a turn. My hands were gripping the handlebars tightly, my stomach was tense. My fingers were holding the brakes halfway, ready to do the full squeeze at any time.

The thing about going downhill is that you don't need to pedal. Gravity will take care of everything. I don't really want gravity to be in control, I want to decide how fast or slow I go. The thing with gravity is you don't have a choice. No one does.

My cousin made it look easy, riding down a mountain. Everyone makes it seem that way. I remembered that last time I followed a cousin down a mountain on my bike.

But I was already going down. My aunt and my cousin were getting further and further ahead of me. And then it just clicked. I was in San Francisco. It was 11 degrees. It was Christmas. I was outside, I was alive, I was in love with the big scary world. Maybe there was something waiting for me at the bottom, maybe there wasn't. It didn't really matter. I loosened my fingers on the brakes. I let go.

There is something very freeing about flying down a mountain when you don't want to. The colours blur together, the air fills your lungs, the ground disappears --

There was nothing at the bottom. The road continued as it does, as they all do. I crossed it and went home.

The truth is that I'm still afraid. This could be one of those stories where my life changes for the better when I finally let go of my fears. But it's not. I went back to Montreal and stayed the same, for the most part. But that's not the point. The point is that I did it. I left Prufrock at the top of the hill. For a glorious half hour I sailed through life. I opened my heart and touched the sky.

Let us go then, you and I,
when the evening is spread out against the sky...

oh, do not ask "what is it?"
let us go and make our visit.

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

I Just Want Back in New York City

wine,
red, white, and blue
no wait, i'm canadian
i have a lot of friends
in london, ontario

tables, glass - but
what does it mean?
if this is a machine
it sure looks like a dream
you're just too fucking
post modern
she said
you're so fucking
post
modern
you're practically dead
bury me in keds
they're practical or so
my mom said
you're so fucking post modern!!
let me eat your head
when you die, i'm going
to wish i too
was dead
ps leisha hailey sees red
pps your mom
is in my bed
ppps j.k

-poem by katrina, riese, and i. but mostly riese.

--

I took the cab to Penn Station without really knowing where I was going. In fact this whole weekend I never knew where I was going, I just knew that I was going somewhere. It's not where you are, it's who you're with and I spent the weekend with some of the best people I possibly could. Leaving Manhattan made me want to cry.

So I did. A little bit.
And I'm still crying. But I'm still smiling too. I'm...
lacking the words. I guess if you know what it's like to be not happy and then feeling pure .. happiness .. maybe you know. Maybe you understand how much I don't want to let this go.

++

Remember that time we woke with our hearts constricted in the best way possible. Remember that time I shouted so much my voice started sounding like I had a head cold. I shouted because the rooms were loud, everything is very loud in New York. Sometimes I just want to hide from the noise inside me but not this time. This time I participated.

++

New York is big and small. My heart is big and I am small. There is enough room in my heart for everyone and everyone and other people and I will keep you [you] there because I need you [you] with me all the time.

Maybe I shouldn't admit that. Maybe I shouldn't say it. Maybe I shouldn't say anything unless everyone is drunk.

++

We're eating dinner at a restaurant in Little Italy. The lights are low and she's at the other table and my back's against the wall and no one is really sitting. There are no cars in the street I don't know why maybe it's blocked. There are a million restaurants. There are a million people. We stood by a chinese street vendor and kissed and kissed and kissed....

++

Chinese fire drill. Run, run, run [when I get a little scared].
I just want...
to never let this go.

++

I was conscious of time, knew that it was limited. Everything is in some way limited by time. Or not, depends on how you look at it. This could last forever somehow if I let it but I don't know how. Really though, I don't know what forever is and I don't know how to get there. I'm very conscious of time, I know that it is limited.

The seconds ticked.
It was long because we never slept.
What do you think they're doing right now, sleeping or drinking, I asked.
Drinking, she replied.

and so we were.

++

Run, run, run. Repeat
repeat the words I know we both said.

There are a million restaurants. There are a million people. We stood by a chinese street vendor and kissed and kissed and kissed....

++

This is how it works: you're young until you're not.

My heart feels so much right now. I remember walking in -- no, that's inaccurate, diving is right -- diving in because this couldn't be something I was scared of. I wouldn't allow myself to dip my feet in while everyone else got wet.

Look at everybody. Four on the couch, one on the floor. One on a chair. I was the fifth on the steps. One moving around everywhere. I don't know if this is right but look at everybody. Everybody is so pretty. My eyes, wide, wide, wide, soaking everything in. Dear brain, promise me you'll never forget this.

I never want to let this go.

++

I'm sitting on her shoes, and the other her is sitting in the dark corner by my side. I kinda get it. Even though it's hers, it's for her, she's gotta come outside. Sometimes we just need the comfortable people or the ones you don't need to say anything to. Some things don't need explaining. This I remember. This I know. Repeat the words I know we both didn't say.

Run, run, run.

++

Oh god, oh god, oh god. I miss you something fierce. Oh god it hurts. Oh it's so terrible, it's so perfect, it's so real. It's a thunderstorm in my heart and oh god it hurts.

This is how it works: you peer inside yourself.
You take the things you like and
try to love the things you took
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood
and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again.

my number one feeling is missing autostraddle all lowercase

run run run run run around the party truck waving flags hopping sweating smiling run run circle collapse dance yes! yes! yes!

i am never letting you go.

lovelovelovelove oh god oh god oh god what is happening

And I'm still crying. But I'm still smiling too. I'm...
lacking the words. I guess if you know what it's like to be not happy and then feeling pure .. happiness .. maybe you know. Maybe you understand how much I don't want to let this go.

I Have A Lot Of Feelings, That's Why I Have a Blog

I try really hard to do my homework but I get distracted by pictures of Penelope Cruz.

Stars make me feel really mellow and sad and heartbroken. Not a bad heartbroken, more like an accepting heartbreak; sometimes the world is just like this. If I had just gotten out of a hard breakup, I would listen to Stars and cry a lot. I didn't just get out of a relationship though, so I'm listening to Stars and enjoying it. I feel like they have a lot of feelings. I have a lot of feelings too. Some of my feelings are:

1. i am tired
2. i hate french homework
3. my brain has no punctuation
4. i am tired
5. i owe people money and i have no money that is why i borrowed money
6. does anybody have money they want to give me

I think about time a lot. I get thrown off if things don't go according to plan and I make plans, small plans but plans nonetheless and I am bad at finishing them. I have plans to eat breakfast in 20 minutes and brush my teeth in 5 and get dressed in 20 and that's 45 minutes that's why I get up 45 minutes before I have to leave but I never leave on time. I like moments when I stop thinking about time. When I think about time it means I'm not in the "now" it means I'm somewhere else, it means I'm nowhere, it means I'm making plans that I can't follow through on.

"And it came to me then, that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time." - Death Cab for Cutie "What Sarah Said"

I think there is a lyric or line for every feeling I've ever had. I think this is a thesis statement and I will go about proving it. Also I think this reinforces my view that feelings are universal and that all people, all humans share the same feelings i.e. love is not discriminatory so stop being a jackass and judging others because they look/act/are different from you and stop taking away my rights, you narrow-minded dinosaurs.

I just realized that this can go way in depth; like the level of feelings ("I hate you", "I despise you", "I hate you so much that I would not even feel bad if you died", "I dislike you", etc.) so this could probably take forever and I haven't posted in like 4 days and I have to write a stupid philosophy paper and I only had 5 hours of sleep last night and no one reads this anyways and the l word sucks balls and tomorrow's the last day before spring break, we're going to celebrate.

A celebration of death: "don't you weep, don't you weep for them. there is nothing as lucky, as, easy, or free." - bright eyes "easy/lucky/free"
Also another good death celebration song is "The Great Gig in the Sky" by Pink Floyd, except there aren't really any lyrics.

Celebration of life: Hakuna Matata! Obvs.

Annie let's not wait

I think I'll stop there 'cause celebration is all we need, let's celebrate some more. The world is really great so let's celebrate. MORE DRINKS! MORE PARTIES! MORE LAUGHTER!

also I'm sorry this post is all over the place and it's 2 days overdue and I'll try to be better I promise and next time is going to be about something, I swear.

Life's Unanswerable Questions: Day 38

What day is it? Day 38! I'm losing track! This is getting stupid! I feel like there was something I had to tell you guys but I really can't remember right now. Anyways I'm about to go on a rant about nothing, enjoy.

It's up for grabs. You know that feeling when you're in between something? Like late May when school is done but summer hasn't officially started. I've got that feeling now, like I'm waiting for something, waiting for the next wave of life to come at me. I don't really know what to do with myself, all my events seemed poised for the "distant" future. What's happening tomorrow? I really have no clue. It's up for grabs. Does anyone want to make my day? Can I make my own day exciting? The weeks are passing pretty quickly. I was surprised to find how close we are to midterms. It's a nervous excitement, a sort of wonder that it's almost March, it's almost spring, I might see green grass soon. I might be able to wear a sweater outside soon. I might be able to wear my converse and not have frozen, wet feet. It's up for grabs, really. The day can be anybody's moment. I could be anything.

I don't really get spring cleaning. I mean, as of right now it feels like a really bad time to be throwing things out. I know it's not spring yet, but I'm thinking it's gotta come pretty soon. If there's any time to be cleaning shit up, it's the end of August. That's when I would have a garage sale. Of course, I hoard everything and am materialistic and idealistic and romantic and can't part with anything because I'm afraid I might need it at some point in my life 20 years down the road so I'll be carting everything I own with me forever as I accumulate it over the years. I probably should do some cleaning, some weeding (this is not a reference to drugs), I know it would make my step-mom really happy.

Okay I actually remember what I was going to talk about. It was the general collapsing of emotions. Sometimes the smallest hurts trigger the biggest pains. What am I talking about? My friend had a knee injury and has finally recovered, only today somebody accidentally hit it. She cried, but I recognized that kind of crying. It probably hurt a lot, but it wasn't fucked up again. It hurt a lot but also, the world hurt a lot. I know that kind of crying, I've done it so many times.

"The last song on the record is dedicated to people who are alone. I mean, like alone and you stub your toe and you fall on the ground and you sob hysterically into the ground and you're like, 'What is wrong with my life?'" - Sara (Tegan and Sara)

Right??? It's not really cause you stubbed your toe that you're crying. It's because it's one too many things that hurt. Now, I've been feeling really good lately (by lately I mean last 4 months). If I stub my toe I will probably swear a lot and move on. But I've been there before, when I used to just lie on the ground and wonder 'What the fuck is going on' and it's like what Riese (this girl called automatic win) said, I never really expected an answer. I still don't. But I guess I'm asking myself those kinds of questions less and less. I mean I still wonder, I'm still afraid, but I guess I've learned to distance myself from those fears. I'm actually not sure if this is a good thing. I guess it's good because I'm happy, but I haven't felt anything so passionately in a while. I miss that a little bit. I miss feeling very passionate, very intense. I miss feeling on the edge of something big. Now I feel stuck, I feel like I'm waiting, like I'm staring down a flat plain, a straight road right in front of me. I'm waiting for something to hit me, to wake me up or knock me out. Maybe I'm waiting for reality or what used to be, the way things were when everything seemed too big. I wrote a lot more in my journal then.




So far this post has been about nothing. But I hope you learned something about anything. Maybe you learned that I am vague about everything. Did you discover something about yourself? Are you nodding your head in agreement as you read along? Feel free to comment about how nonsensical this all is, or how, despite the nonsense, sometimes it makes perfect sense. Sometimes the abstract feels real.

Or DON'T COMMENT. I DON'T CARE!

No, really. Sometimes the only consolation in life is that someone views it the same way as you. If you share something with me, then good, keep it and remember that you're not alone. I won't know that we share a common bond of understanding, but that's okay. Seriously.

Saturday: Day 27, Another Day, At Least It's Not Monday

This is a blog about how I can say a lot of things without really saying anything. All I am good at writing is abstract nonsense that means nothing. How will this ability get me a job. I read something interesting at my favorite blog of all time, this girl called automatic win, which is why she is my favorite.

She says: Lately I've been fine with putting periods at the end of questions. Maybe I've stopped expecting answers.

This is my favorite and least favorite thing about the internet. When I read this red flashing lights and waving flags went off in my brain and they yelled CONNECTION, CONNECTION. This happens to me a lot when reading things on the world wide web. Unfortunately we never actually get to share that connection. So, if you read this and other things here, and lights flash in your mind, come talk to me. I like it.

Yesterday I took a little tour around Dupont Circle in DC and went to American University to visit Katrina F. Casino. It was special, I can't put it in words. I laughed a lot. And that's the kind of connection I'm talking about. Now that I've taught her how to leave a comment maybe she will.

DC is a nice kind of city I guess, it has that American feel to it. One section really reminded me of Berekely, which is the only American city where I can say I kind of know the area. In that sense, it felt a little bit like home. Funny how you can feel more at home when you're away from home. There was a moment in the morning when the sun was coming up and the air felt crisp like spring when I felt really good. I felt comfortable. I would never think about living in DC, but I would definitely come back. I like that they call the metro the metro and not the subway. I don't like that they don't give you change.

Oh yeah, today is Valentine's day, which is meaningless to me. I don't feel "more alone". I feel like I don't care. There's this guy on the phone saying that today is valentine's day and it should be special for everybody. Hey buddy, everyday should be special.

And it is.

Day 4: I Wake Up Exhausted

This is day four of semester two. I don't know how many days there are in the semester, I could (not) easily count them but it's more exciting this way. I'll be counting weekends 'cause I want to, I'll be doing homework during them, no one is free until May. For some reason people like to keep track of things like this, at least I do, I'm super anal about "time" and my calendar. People like to put a label on things. They can't just be "nothing", they have to be "something". Today is day four.

The days are long and the nights are short. I think my Philosophy teacher is drunk. My Politics teacher is.. is.. is.. Well, it's like this. It's a bang-your-head-against-the-wall feeling, like I want to bang his head against the wall, hard, and multiple times, there's no other way to explain it. But I've had all my first classes, now I guess I have to pay attention and work. I'm watching Grey's Anatomy now, I don't know why I still watch this show, it's pretty bad and everyone knows.

So Obama is officially the 44th president of the United States. I have the inauguration taped, I haven't a chance to watch it yet what with the paying attention and work. But I bet it's nice. Nice. More on that when I watch it.

I can't really think of what to write. Do they really still have death sentences in the U.S? There's a whole website about it, apparently it's still legal. I find that very interesting, and like, strange. Almost backwards, you know? Once in grade 8 in History class we talked about this guy who was executed for murder, and then 25 years later this other guy comes and says that he was the actual murderer, and they killed the wrong guy. Anyway the innocent guy's family ended up getting like 2 million dollars or something. But this was grade 8 so my memory is probably all wrong.

Meredith Grey was looking nice in "non-doctor" clothes. Civilian clothes. This is one of my less interesting posts.

I just reread this and it makes no sense. Obvs I'm very tired. There are probably zillions of grammatical errors all over this page, I'm only hurting myself by writing more, clearly I'm not in any state to write coherently. This is how I usually start term papers, but not this semester, right, 'cause of the new years resolution. Good thing I don't have a lot of homework yet.

Inked Like an Octopus About to Jet

An argument that seems to come up a lot in discussions about tattoos is that you might not like it in twenty years. My answer is this: I can't not do something now in fear of what might happen in twenty years when I may or may not still be around, seriously, who knows what's going to happen? I'm not going to not enjoy something now because I think I might not enjoy it in later years. You know what else happens when you get old? Your teeth fall out and your hair falls off your head and starts growing profusely in your nose and ears but you can't tell because your eyes are so bad, and you know what that means? You probs can't see your tattoo.

Another argument is the job argument. You know, I don't really want to work for someone that doesn't accept me for who I am, and I can srsly just hear people right now telling me how naive I am and "just wait till I get into the real world", etc., but it's boring and old like you. It's okay about the job thing. I don't want to dwell on it because it seems rather unimportant to me, maybe I am incredibly naive, oh well, I won't listen because I'm stubborn and I need to have the experience in order to change my mind.

I live with no regrets. I hope when I'm 60 I remember that, when I was 18, this is what I wanted. If I've made a choice in the past that I realize I wouldn't make now then I just think that at that moment, that was how I felt. That choice felt right. I'm a big believer in following your heart, as corny as that sounds, and as much shit that has gotten me into, I'm glad that I've done it. I'm glad I've made choices based on my instinct, my gut, my heart, because had I not, I would be forever wondering, forever kicking myself trying to soothe my conscience.

The choices are mine to make, especially the mistakes. ESPECIALLY THE MISTAKES, in case you didn't read it the first time. I'd hope that my mistakes are my mistakes and not someone elses, not someone elses choice or influence. Oscar Wilde once said "experience is the name we give to our mistakes" and I'd much rather have a lot of experiences than a lot of mistakes. Also Wilde lived a flamboyant and brilliant life, and was a literary genius, thank you very much.

Some things you can't choose. You can't choose where you're born, your gender, your family, your sexuality. But there are some things you can choose. And I don't want to leave up to fate what I can take into my own hands.



"All the young punks,
laugh your life 'cause there ain't much to cry for.
All you young cunts,
live your life 'cause there ain't much to die for."
- The Clash "All the Young Punks"