Stolen: Old bike, probably worth nothing to you

Grey Minelli bike, medium size, used condition. Pretty heavy. Was last seen locked to a bike post outside my apartment. Worth more in happiness points than money. Whatever. Keep the bike, you asshole. I hope you crash and break your bike-stealing arms.

Basically, this:

february, you're a piece of shit, always

february you're ruining my life what the hell do you think you're doing stop fucking snowing

forever and ever you're the worst month of the year i hate your guts and i hope you melt

La vie est une merde totale

"La vie est une merde totale
on la chie jusqu'à la mort.
une grande ligne de caca
c'est là tout ce qui restera
de nous. merci maman."

"qui

n'a

pas

déjà

cru

avoir

rejeté l'amour

dans l'âme

pour

toujours?"

merci julie doucet for being super fucking awesome.

I think the idea that I can't have everything infuriates me

I think the idea that I can't have it all drives me insane. Why can't I take 18 credits and have a job at the same time? Because that's insane. Why can't I learn the things I want to learn? What did I come to university for? To be a writer. Oh yeah, to be a writer. That's what I said before I came here. I said I would be a writer with or without university. But aren't I writing right now? Isn't anyone who writes a writer? Oh, but to be a good writer. Ah, well.

Here I am. I want everything. An apartment with a living room for fuck's sake. A job that doesn't take everything I am for minimum wage plus 10cents. It's nothing. It's something. I feel broken.

If I don't like it why do I do it? If I demand better what does that make me? Insolent, maybe. Ungrateful.

Can I get some quiet? I know, I know, I know. It's just this day. But I can't be quiet. I can't turn me off. There's always someone in there, knock knock knock, right, she says, why can't you have it all. And then another, you have too much. Oh, help. You'll never have enough.

Oh, and I want and I want and I want it all.

[the temper trap - fools]

Things That Are Killing Me Slowly

1. academia

2. my uterus

3. winter

4. the patriarchy

world collision

i cut myself in half. i split myself in two and i said, "i can be whoever i want to be. and i can still be happy." i can make this part of me disappear, i can make this part of me appear. i can wear a new skin every day. i can be in love i can be out love. with a snap of my fingers i need you/i don't need you.

i am -

i am -

inside this room i wear these boots and i am in charge.

outside this room i am -

i am undone. where do you find people? how do other people

find

other

people?

i am falling off the face of the earth i think. i have split myself in two and fallen right apart. i have torn myself open for nobody. i'll spill my guts for you, you don't even have to ask.

disposable myths

"don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable." - beyonce

i've seen you before. don't worry, we are all children looking up for validation. i know you don't want to feel special, you want to be special. you are so helpful. you are always there. you are so kind, so loving. you want equality so long as you are the equal one. i've seen you before. don't worry, you always get what you want.

here's what i think, though. you are completely disposable. we are all completely disposable. one body is replaced with another (how absence is easily replaced by another body that makes the same motions, and then it's fine i guess) is replaced with another is replaced with another. how the giant world makes us feel so small, and the tiny world makes us feel so small. you are in denial about your dispensability, 'cause it hurts doesn't it. all we wanted was to feel like someone needed us. i mean, me. wouldn't it be nice to feel like someone needed you, but actually you, you you you? turns out nothing needs us. you're flushed.

but don't worry, because it's completely alright. see, here's the thing. you are not the first nor the last to do the thing you're doing. someone will most certainly accomplish the same things as you, and don't worry because someone already has done it before you. someone has already made your mistakes, and someone will make them again when you're gone. so that's it. you are not the first and you are not the last. you are a cog in the machine, you are not a cog in the machine. you are free.

Why In The World Would I Want To Be Perfect?: A Lament On Braces

Warning: the following blog post is extremely dramatic and contains language which may not be suitable for people who don't like swearing. Reader discretion is advised.

++

A few weeks ago I went to the orthodontist and he suggested that I get 3 or 4 braces on my bottom teeth to fix this one tooth that wasn't doing what he wanted it to do.

My orthodontist had made this proposition to me 3 months earlier before I went to China and I had laughed in his face. Braces? Um, yeah right. Back track to 8 years ago when I was 13 and the same orthodontist said my braces would be on for a year to a year and a half. They were the new, stronger type at that time. Fast forward a little bit to a few weeks before my prom with braces still on. You know, 4 years later.

I often say that glasses are ruining my life, but when I was in high school, braces were ruining my life. If you've never had braces before then I'm sorry but you just don't understand. Unless you have some other kind of mouth thing that rips the inside of your cheeks repeatedly or had to have elastics tying your mouth together or been forced to cut the corn on the cob off the cob, you just don't understand. So, 3 months ago, when my orthodontist suggested braces, my initial reaction was

FUCK NO.

NEVER.

FUCK OFF.

FUCK YOU.

FUCKING DIE.

NO.

He said come back after China and we'll talk about it.

This time, I was more prepared when he asked me about braces again. I really don't want braces, I said. I tried to emphasize the 'really'. In fact I said it multiple times. I really, really, really do not want braces. I have been going to this place since for 7 or 8 years. My dad has paid you a bajillion dollars. Leave me the fuck alone already.

But he showed me a mirror. I've seen it already, the crooked tooth. I look at pictures of myself and it's plainly obvious to me (but probably to no one else). This one stupid tooth is turning my perfect thousands-of-dollars smile into something less than perfect. The nurse said it might even get worse (but probably not). That's just ridiculous.

Normally I embrace "flaws". I'm a really short person, but will that bring me down? No! I will use it to my advantage! I was born this way!

But 8 years ago I had made the decision to change my teeth. It was work, it cost money, it was literally painful, I cried real tears probably way too much during the braces years. They really weren't as cool as they looked on my older cousin. But with anything that I work on, I want the end result to be good. No, I want it to be perfect. Did I go through 5 years of braces hell to finish with one crooked tooth? No, I did not. When I start something the finished product needs to meet my unrealistic expectations/standards of perfection. (Okay, that part might be where I'm a little bit crazy).

I sat in the chair and looked at my teeth in the mirror. What the fuck does this stupid tooth think it's doing anyway? How did this even happen? I refuse to believe that I am not the master controller of everything in my body. I will will this tooth to fix itself. Barring that, I will learn to love my crooked tooth. Nobody will notice it. Plus, I always seem to have crushes on people with crooked teeth. If I don't want them to change, why should I want my teeth to change? I'm almost 21 years old! My braces time is over! It's too late. Fuck that noise. People will learn to love me with my crooked smile.

Who am I kidding? I said yes to the braces (mostly because I want to be famous and famous people have straight teeth) and then I went home and cried because I'm a baby. Also because the receptionist said they were fully booked until October, and I'd have to wait until bloody motherfucker goddamned October. Goddamnit. I hate everything.

If only the orthodontist could have done it in August when I had my appointment, they could practically be off by October. Instead, I'm going to have them for Halloween, my birthday, Christmas, New Years...

I really, really, really want to call them and cancel my appointment. Just fuck it. It's one tooth, it's not even that crooked. These people are causing me serious emotional turmoil. Come on, Emily, you can do it. Tell them (politely) to fuck off. Pick up the phone...

I really, really, really don't want braces. But I also really, really, really don't want crooked teeth. Fuck me. Why oh why do I crave perfection?

Things I Want Right Now That I Can't Afford

1. a studio apartment (or, really, just any apartment)

2. a new bike

3. an iphone 4

4. fame

5. this hoodie

6. laser eye surgery

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

Greenland is Projected As A Giant Land Mass But In Reality It Is Not

Laurrrrita Wooley Mammoth showed this to me when she was in Montreal.

This is a map of the world. Did you know there are more than one different projections of maps? I did not, which was probably naive of me. Forgive me for thinking that map making might be objective/accurate.

The photo above is a mercator map. You might recognize this type of map as seen in all your classrooms, my bedroom which probably never been in, textbooks, etc. It has its uses. It's good for navigating the seas. It shows the shapes of countries accurately. But it also distorts the size of countries the farther away from the equator they are. For example, in this map, Greenland is almost as big as Africa, when in reality Africa is 14 times larger than Greenland. The problem with the mercator projection is that it tends to make the West seem a lot larger than it is. Does this sound like some sort of familiar colonialist rhetoric?

This is the Gall-Peters projection.

If you notice in this map, Greenland is tiny, and Africa is HUGE. China is HUGE. Brazil is HUGEish. And Europe, and Canada, and the United States got a little smaller.

This is apparently what the actual size of countries are. I don't know. (I'm finding it a lot harder to trust map-makers now). It's likely that I'll never know unless I find a way to go into space and position my rocket in a way so I can compare the size of different countries. The problem is that you can't show both shape and size accurately. You have to pick one.

Now this is a site you want to read. I'm serious. It's well worth your time.

Okay so the picture I wanted to show you doesn't work because my background is black. But here it is.

Greenland is 0.8 million square miles. China is 3.7 million square miles.

Go. Go read this right now. Have your world view changed.

"The Year In Review": A Few Things I Remember

1. [f a l l i n g in and out and in and o u t of love]

With everything, and everyone, constantly. I just can't do the highs and lows. Well, sometimes I don't understand me and sometimes I don't understand you. I don't know you or me. I don't understand the happiness or lightness of love; I don't understand the sadness and excessive weight of love. I've given you all and now I'm nothing.

2. ["Christmas is S O D U M B."]

I am Scrooge/The Grinch. Whatever. Christmas is stupid. I'm only partially sorry if that offends you. What is Christmas about anyway? Is it the birth of Jesus? I honestly don't even know. I don't even really care. All I want for Christmas, really, is some new socks. Because the majority of my socks have holes in them. I am happy that I am escaping this Christmas obsessed world and going to a tiny bubble in the middle of nowhere with people who also don't care about Christmas.

(Alright, so Christmas hasn't happened yet, but today on the metro I saw a man with a Christmas tree and I thought "oh yeah, I guess it's about that time to throw out Christmas trees" and then I realized that December 25th hasn't actually happened yet. That's how much I care about Christmas.)

3. [g r a dua t ing]

I did it.

4. [s u m m e r in America]

It was hot. There were fireworks and a parade and everyone I love in Riese's living room. I feel sad and nostalgic because it will probably never happen again, I mean, not like that. You and I are not the same people anymore. But we are still beautiful.

5. [moving i n and o u t and in and out of h o m e]

Frequently I ask myself "why do I live here" and fail to produce a decent answer. Then one night I slept in my old bedroom and felt annoyed at all the space. My room was too big. It doesn't matter. Nothing is ever clean in my apartment. But my small room feels at least a little more like home. It's warm and the bed is comfortable. It's safe.

I still feel like I don't know where I live, or where home is. I guess that's normal.

6. [the year in r e v i e w]

I remember parts of the year. I remember February, vividly. I remember March and feeling high and happy and perfect. Things made sense in March. I think I went on a camping trip in April. I remember my legs sticking to the seat of the bus in May. June and July are stuck together in a gooey mess of sweat and kisses and tears. August is one long train ride to nowhere. September - November is 10,000 feelings I'd like to erase. I am drained and pulled apart.

I am tired and I'd like to stop counting. I'd like to stop counting backwards and forwards. Sometimes all I know is that I'm a mirror of other people's feelings and opinions, a composition of people who came before me. Sometimes I'm amazed at the love I feel, and the strangeness of how I can love people I don't know, so much so that I turn the people I claim to love into strangers. Sometimes I'm surprised at how angry I am, when I don't know where that anger comes from. But mostly I'm surprised/unsurprised at the way the world heals itself, and how when everything feels upside down, the world will turn you over again.

"I love the number of people

you can love at the same time,

one deep, erotic love,

radiating even to strangers,

cynics, making a temporary sense

of the senseless, choreful day."

- Stephen Dunn "Loves"

Is this year over yet.

now things feel like the way they did before i met you

various states i am living in: missing, waiting

i haven't had time to write much because i've been trying to figure out how to live again. i feel like i've gone backwards in time a bit. also i've forgotten how to write normal sentences.

i went to the laundromat for the first time. i met three different people there. one guy told me i could go next door to get change. another guy asked me if i got wifi and i told him no, but that was a good thing because i wanted to read my article with no distractions. i went home 5 minutes later without reading anything. then i came back and realized that i had forgotten to put a sock in the washer. i asked a woman if i could just open the door and put the sock in. she said it was probably locked, but to try it. i tried it. it was locked. i shrugged my shoulders and said i have a rogue sock. she shrugged her shoulders and laughed. she left.

i read two pages of my politics in china book. for every quarter, the dryer dries for 5 minutes. i brought my clothes home half dried and opened my window really wide.

truth about women

it’s the middle of winter. i think winter is perfect for breathing close to someone when you’re outside and hiding your hands somewhere. i wonder why it is always winter when these things start.

it’s the middle of winter and i don’t have boots on. i have shoes on and they are wet. my knees are wet because i fell to the ground to look at the sky. i thought it might answer some questions but i guess since the sky can’t talk it just snowed on me. it snowed on everyone else too.

i tried to make the place i live a home. i try to drink something warm every day. i’m afraid in the middle of the night my bones might freeze if i don’t continually stir the fires in my finger tips. i wonder how long it would take for someone to find my frozen bones and all it would take is another body in my bed and i might just melt a little. well, the truth was that i was waiting for somebody. i was waiting for her to come to the place i try to call a home because i thought maybe, well, i thought she said she would. but that was a long time ago.

it’s hard when you’re in love with everyone in the world. i want to say “you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen” i want to say that to everyone i meet, ‘cause it’s the honest truth, every time i look at them, god, i think, good god, you’re beautiful, and you, you’re beautiful too, you’re all so goddamn pretty i can hardly stand it. i love them all. i love you all and you don’t even know it. you’re beautiful and you know it so you don’t hear me when i say it.

you’re beautiful and you love each other and you don’t love me and i love you, all of you, and i say, i love you, and you, well, you. there you are.

time is strange because it’s never quite the same everywhere. somewhere it is summer. somewhere on the opposite side of me.

you wore a white shirt and you said something in my ear and it made me love you. i said that i didn’t love you before but now i do. i like that shirt you wear. i like those black framed glasses. you have your hand on my arm and inside my head i’m like “yes!yes!yes!”

no, wait.

that was a dream.

i’m wearing these shitty converse with holes in them and my feet are freezing already. i’m walking home at night, in fact, it may already be tomorrow, and there is slush in my shoes and inside of my socks. i wear my collar high or else the wind might come inside too, and then my bones would shiver, and they can’t take a shiver right now, they’re just waiting for a shake. but no one grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eye and says “shake shake shake”. shake shake shake.

i thought i’d be home by now but i’m not home. and you know what, i’m mad because i can hardly take it, you know, i can hardly stand it, i feel like kicking concrete. i’m mad at all the things; the wind, my dreams, the height of my ceilings, her glasses, cold tea.

i happened to be there one night. i never go there but then i was there instead of being somewhere else. that’s how things happen. it starts like i was doing my ordinary thing but then something changed. so something changed. so i was there. you were there, surrounded by friends or just other people. i carried you home and laid you on my bed. i said “i’m here,”

and you said,

“i want to go home”.

and home it is. keys and stuff. asleep in the next room. i stay up because i think she might call me. i remember that time is different if you’re not in the same spot as me, and she’s not. but i stay up because maybe, just maybe.

i had things tentatively planned. i thought she could maybe help me pick some winter boots. i thought we could stumble home from the bars and it wouldn’t seem so long and far. i thought maybe we’ll eat dinner somewhere, or maybe i’ll cook her dinner, or maybe both, or maybe more. she could walk to the bus stop with me. that’d be a nice change from standing with the lonelies who have gathered at the same spot for the same reason but can’t connect ‘cause they were born with lonely in their blood.

she didn’t call.

i’m so fucking in love with all of you. i’m so fucking in love and it hurts. it’s a million heartbreaks and i can’t go back. i can’t ever go back. once i was on the outside and it was a dull pain, the inside was a real heart but i’m not there anymore. and i can’t go back to anywhere. i’m so fucking lonely i might shrivel up into blank paper.

i barely sleep at night. i wander through dreams of people that i know but not well enough. in my dreams they are my friends but in real life we don’t know each other well enough to call it that. i wake up confused about the time. i think it’s morning when it’s 4 am and i start to get dressed only to check the clock and i can’t fall back asleep again.

when she finally called i hated every word i said to her. i was a sad puppy child full of contradictions. i cried quietly so she wouldn’t hear but all i wanted was for her to hear so i could get some attention. but i didn’t know what i wanted. but i knew what i wanted. but i wanted to cling to her body, looking for some kind of primeval comfort that i’m too shy to ask for when i’m sober. i couldn’t ask because i knew she couldn’t give. i didn’t know if she would call again. but i wanted it, yes, yes i did, so honestly that my own honesty hurt me.

after she called my eyes broke and i ate a half-cooked half-dinner. no, it wasn’t even half-cooked.

it’s not about you this time, i guess. it’s about me. it’s because i tried really hard. i mean, i really tried, i tried so hard that you didn’t even notice because everything i did was perfect. i was so fucking perfect. and i still lost.

i felt the fabric of your shirt, your white shirt. it touched my fingertips. i put my face to your chest and it touched my face. your arms were a blanket. i liked the way small parts of my skin stuck to your skin and the way you smelled and the way you breathed like it was a normal thing to do. you know i was still learning how. inside my heart i breathed a steady “yes, yes, yes”.

it was a dream. sometimes waking up from a dream is harder than other times. i can’t help myself for wanting it, for wanting you, for wanting her, for wanting everyone. time is hard, but time is not the same everywhere. somewhere else there is good time and the truth is that we will get there, all of us, every single one of us. because we’re so beautiful, we’re the most beautiful people ever made, and that’s the honest truth, i think, good god, we’re beautiful, and i love you, i really do, every single person, and all the doubles too.

inside my heart i breathe,

“yes, yes, yes.”

So Sick of Being Tired and Oh So Tired of Being Sick

There are a few things causing problems in my life right now.

I cannot register at Concordia until Monday. This causes problems for a few reasons. Namely, anxiety. Guys, I can't sleep. I'm not even joking. For the past two days I have wanted to throw a brick at my wall because all the classes I want to take are full. I have made a mock schedule and it causes me anxiety to rearrange it. It causes me anxiety to think of all the other people who are registering right now and taking up spots in the classes that I don't want to take but will have to take because the other ones are full. If I have to read Joy Kogawa's Obasan again I will drop out of college immediately.

The reason I took so long to start the registration process at Concordia was because I was waiting to hear from UBC which only sent my acceptance on May 14. Then Laura came and I was distracted. Then I called Concordia and they only scheduled my academic advising session for June 14.

Making a schedule is really hard. I think I must've been concussed when I decided to major in Creative Writing. Probably I should have looked at the degree requirements and the classes and maybe talked to an advisor about this stuff, but I didn't, I applied 2 days before the deadline and then through word of mouth I heard that it was a really good program, and still I didn't look at the courses and now I'm here in this spot, confused because I just want to write stories and I don't want to read Margaret Atwood and I don't want to study 18th century drama. I feel like maybe I should've known that Creative Writing is actually English Literature in Disguise with Four Creative Writing Classes to Throw You Off.

Sometimes I think I'm stupid. Not stupid like, 'I can't solve this math problem', but stupid like there's something that I'm missing. There's something about my life that I don't understand, that I don't get, when I finally do get it I'll have this "ooooohhhh" moment where everything makes sense and I can live my life better, but then I think that maybe there is no moment of revelation and as soon as I stop being so naive and realize that this is it, there is nothing else to "get", then I can come to terms with the fact that Modern Poetry in English is full and I can get on with my life.

But I can't stop thinking that maybe it will open up.

I think I just care a lot, you know? "I just want life in every word, to the extent that it's absurd" (and if this was an academic essay I would probs do some MLA shit right here, like, "Gibbard, Clark Gable", or something). Anyways. The point is that sometimes life is hard! And confusing! And no one wants to help you! And I want all of it, all of life. And you think one thing but it's really another thing and you feel cheated and upset, but maybe 17th Century Prose & Poetry is not as bad as it sounds (who am I kidding? It probably is) (but life goes on) (is what I'm trying to say).

Simple Things Can Make You Happy if You Let Them

"In a spirit of mutinous resistance, she climbed the seep grassy slope to the bridge, and when she stood on the driveway, she decided she would stay there and wait until something significant happened to her. This was the challenge she was putting to existence -- she would not stir, not for dinner, not even for her mother calling her in. She would simply wait on the bridge, calm and obstinate, until events, real events, not her own fantasies, rose to her challenge, and dispelled her insignificance."

- Atonement by Ian McEwan

"I'm going to sit here until I feel my soul."

- Matthew Rohrer "MK Ultra"

++

I'm going to sit here until I feel my soul, and then when I feel it I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'm going to sit here and feel apart from my body, feel like I'm two different entities. I can't organize myself.

There wasn't a time when it was easy. If you knew me four years ago you would have known me as angry.

Dear [redacted],

I said I would never write to you again, but here I am. You went away, but you never really went away, if you know what I mean. I used to know you, you used to think you knew me. In my sick, sick way I pulled you in, made you "mine". I thought I wanted you but what I really wanted was for you to have me.

I said that you were me, but in the future. I said if I wasn't so sad I would be just like you. Am I like you now? It's been four years. Who am I now? Am I you?

++

This post began with me trying to say that I used to be really angry when I was 16, but now I'm never angry and it's weird because I'm happy? with a question mark. Then I erased everything and wrote a letter that doesn't make sense. Now I'm listening to a playlist called "Window Blues".

Anyways, the point is that I used to hate everyone and everything because the world was mean. But then things happen, and it's a long story, you might as well read every blog entry I've ever written because that is when things "happened", I mean, this is when I changed. Not because of this blog, but this blog happened to exist when I lived. I don't hate anyone or anything. I still get mad at the STM but I don't get mad at people, rarely, I mean sometimes I still snap at people because I'm human and I get irritated, but I'm not angry, I'm not holding grudges. I feel like I can properly adjust to crisises which is a word I can't spell but I'm not mad about it.

I think I just get sad when other people might get mad. Instead I take it personally, like, if the government is mean I want to cry and sometimes I do, and it hurts me as if they said it to my face. That was just an example because I can't think of anything real right now.

Being positive is really hard, but it's all in your head. I had a therapist who got pregnant and left me but she taught me that it's all in my head and I can be happy if I want to, and I do.

I can't be around srs negativity because it's like a relapse. It makes me feel like I'm 16. It makes me want to write letters to [redacted] and that's dumb because I'm smarter now. I think.

++

"The people we love could never crawl inside of us, even if they wanted to... happy's up to you."

Kind of Like Spitting - "Happy?"

The One Where I Have Feelings About "The Marriage Ref"

Due to a recent obsession with Tina Fey and through word of mouth (read: twitter), I have come to hear about a show called "The Marriage Ref". Without ever watching this show, I could tell you that IT IS THE WORST SHOW EVER. WTF.

If you don't know what The Marriage Ref is all about, let me tell you: there is a "referee". There is a married couple. There are 3 judges -- two guests, one Jerry Seinfeld, creator of this monstrosity. The married couple have a fight. The guest judges debate the issue. The "referee" makes a call. Someone wins something. No, just kidding, this is a show where humanity loses.

I tried to think of reasons why someone as smart as Tina Fey would agree to be part of shit like this. My opinion? Seinfeld was once on Tina Fey's show 30 Rock. Now she's returning the favour. Plus, they're both with NBC. Maybe this isn't why she did it but I'm going to pretend it is because it would hurt me if Tina actually wanted to be on The Marriage Ref. Like I would be personally hurt. Kind of like when Penelope Cruz signed the petition to let Roman Polanski off for rape. Really, Penelope? Whyyyyyyyyy

The Marriage Ref doesn't do anything helpful for anybody (the issue isn't even resolved at the end). In fact, what it does is reinforce gender stereotypes and showcase failing marriages at a time when people like Maggie Gallagher are trying to tell us that "marriage is a sacred institution".

[While we're on the topic of marriage, I'm on a rampage because I've been reading "opposing viewpoints" on homosexuality for my moral issues in law class, and some of that stuff is so infuriating. Burman Skrable argues that the sexual revolution has allowed it so that people have sex for pleasure instead of just procreation and that now marriage is not all about having children when really it should be. I have a few things to say: a) we let old people get married. b) we let infertile/impotent people get married. c) we let people who don't want to have children get married. d) we are overpopulated. Estimates are that in 50 years we will have over 9 billion people on this planet and we cannot sustain that many people. Also, I feel like Burman Skrable a) never gets laid or b) if he gets laid he hates it because his homophobia is probably just repressed homosexuality.]

I really didn't want to watch The Marriage Ref. I'm actually mad that Tina Fey did this to me. And though I planned to watch it and never tell anyone ever, I was actually SO MAD that I had to write this blog post and therefore admit that I spent 42 minutes wanting to stab myself in the eyes. Just to see Tina Fey, hoping that maybe, maaaybe it wasn't as bad as it sounded. No, it was the worst thing ever. I would rather spend the rest of my life watching Ghost World than see 5 seconds of The Marriage Ref [I hated Ghost World]. But, watching it gives me the authority to judge it. I watched it so you don't have to! You're welcome!

See, it was 4 couples. The first couple were arguing because the husband liked to get manicures and pedicures and shave his chest and generally be clean or something. The wife didn't like that. BORING STUPID STAB STAB STAB. Wives should have a lease, like cars! You should be able to return them after a certain amount of time! Hahahahahaha! And Seinfeld was like "metrosexual, what is that, like, a third gender?" STAB STAB STAB MYSELF IN THE EARS. Gender does not equal sex. Gender does not equal sex. Gender does not equal sex. There are a lot of different genders. Like a lot.

Also; Tom Papa whatever the fuck his name is -- not funny. Worst host ever.

The second couple made me the most angry. The wife bought a diy porch and the husband couldn't put it together and that made her mad so she was like, you're a man you should be hardwired to build things and put porches together

Are you serious, woman? I suppose she also wants to put on her apron and stay in the kitchen and bear children and get rid of her right to vote? Does she leave the house without her husband's permission? stab stab stab stab

Oh hello 21st century, I did not see you there.

Third couple -- the woman flosses in bed. OMG I DON'T EVEN CARE SHOOT ME IN THE FUCKING FACE

Fourth couple -- he takes off his wedding ring to play basketball. He sucks at basketball. Tina Fey says she can take him one on one. I say I will take Tina Fey one on one but not at basketball.

This show looks like it's scripted. The arguments look fake. The arguments are fucking stupid. These couples look like they're not even communicating with each other. Why can't the woman help her husband build the porch? She can't read? She doesn't have arms? I almost recapped this episode except I couldn't bring myself to watch it twice. I can't even bring myself to go back to check if my quotes are right.

What is the point of this show? It doesn't offer solutions to fighting couples, it's just supposed to make us laugh because some woman flosses in bed and some man likes to get his eyebrows waxed. It's not funny. I wanted to kill myself. The Hills is better than this show.

I can't believe this is the "sacred institution" they call marriage. Can we please get rid of this show, and let gays marry? thanks.

Also, Tina Fey -- so beautiful. Worth 42 minutes of permanent cringing face. Howevs, NEVER AGAIN. EVER.

How Do I Loathe Thee, February? Let Me Count The Ways

Let's face it: February fucking sucked. No, seriously. February, the shortest month of the year, felt like it was itself a hundred years long. February sucked the life out of me. I don't know if it's because I'm PMSing or if the world just wants to be annoying, but I can't help but be pissed off at EVERYTHING! RAWR!

February is not the bus that you missed by 1 minute. February is the bus that never came. February left you standing in the wet, wet snow.

February is 3 work shifts and $108. February is not enough money to start a savings account because there are no savings.

February is never leaving your house on weekends. February is a broken promise. February made me spiteful and cynical and bitter.

February is an annotated bibliography.

(February is an exorcise in bullshit.)

February is Monday everyday.

These are my thoughts/feelings:

I am not going to finish A Farewell to Arms.

I need a hair cut.

That's it.

This is why I hated February:

1. Integrative Seminar

2. Text Summaries

3. Ann Veronica

4. This semester fucking sucks?

5. I missed the bus every day by 10 seconds.

6. everything else

I have so much rage it's kind of scaring me. I mean I kind of wanting to elbow an old man in the face yesterday.

There's this song that kind of summarizes how I feel about February, it's called "I Hate Everyone" by Get Set Go and you should listen to it.

Some stupid chick in the check out line

was paying for beer with nickels and dimes

and some old manic with coupons

argued whenever they wouldn't take one.

All I wanted to was buy some cigarettes

but I couldn't take it anymore so I left.

I hate everyone.

Alright. Let's go, March!

Open Letter to the STM and Transit Users

You never fail to frustrate me at least once a day.

To the STM;

I don't know why I should expect reasonable customer service, ever. I can't count the number of times I was yelled at for using student tickets back when tickets still existed, and now I'm forced to pay for a monthly pass if I want the discount. Obvs it was cheaper when I could get 10 reduced fare tickets on my Opus before.

The worst though, are the buses. The buses never run on time. The first bus doesn't come, and the next one comes late. The bus drivers are mean. No, really. A bus driver once gave me false information about the bus that I was on. Maybe it was an accident, but really, shouldn't he know anyway? Once I was accused of fraud by a metro lady.

Also, regular transit fare is expensive. The Opus doesn't work with the trains. The train doesn't even run near me. What's the point of telling me my Opus card expires October 2010 if you're going to make me renew it in 2009? Why do I have to pay $13 to have my Opus renewed?

Thanks for expanding the metro in every direction except west.

I hate you with every fibre of my being.

To transit users;

It's not that I hate you all, but sometimes you just suck the fun out of my day.

Just so we're clear, we're all using public transportation for the same reason: to get somewhere. So, you know, I'm probably just as late for school as you are for work. At the end of the day, I want to get home just as badly as you do. Why do you have to make it so hard?

My number one pet peeve, and this seems to happen every day of my life, is when people stand on the left side of the escalator. This is common knowledge everywhere that on a highway, the left lane is for faster drivers. The further right you are, the slower you go. I know that and I don't even drive. The same applies for the escalator. If you stand on the left side and everyone else stands on the right, you are blocking the entire escalator. Everyone behind you who wants to catch a bus hates your guts and wants you to explode into a pile of dust (or maybe just me). How is it even hard to figure out when the whole left side is open? Here are some things to think about before using the escalator: if you can't make it up the whole way, DON'T DO IT. GET ON THE RIGHT SIDE. DON'T WALK HALFWAY UP, REALIZE YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE AN ASTHMA ATTACK, AND STOP. At the top of the escalator, a lot of people stop walking for some reason. If there are a lot of people behind you, this ends up creating a standing line. Keep walking until you're off the escalator. It's not that scary, I promise.

The other thing that bothers me is the lines for buses. Taking the 470 at anytime from 4-6:30 sucks. Everyone knows that. The line wraps around the sidewalk and overlaps other bus stop lines. In really shitty weather everyone is miserable and cold and wants to go home obviously. But why are you making a second line? I get it that you think you're not going to make the first bus, so you stand "first" in line to be "first" on the next bus that comes, except what you're really doing is butting in front of everyone else who is already in line. Like, I'm in the real line and I miss the first bus, and then you come along and get in this fake second line and the next bus comes and YOU JUST INTEGRATE YOURSELF INTO THE REAL LINE I HATE YOU OMG YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE

SRSLY

IT'S SO FUCKING COLD OUTSIDE

GET IN LINE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE

Do you know why this irritates me so? Because how do you tell these people what they are doing is cheating and annoying? Like in elementary school is that what they taught you? That it's okay to butt in line? Next time I see you at course change I'm just going to start a new line and go in front of you. FORGET EVER STANDING IN A LINE, I'M JUST GOING TO MAKE MY OWN LINE AND GO WHENEVER I FEEL LIKE IT

Lastly, I don't want to hear your music on the way home. So if you have headphones you should use them. If you have headphones and are using them and I can hear your music over my music then I hate you, I just hate you

I want to rip your headphones from your ears and punch you in the face and make your eyes bleed

Sometimes when I get mad I feel violent. I'm glad I have this blog to rant to or else I might bottle up all my feelings inside and just cry myself to sleep instead. Sidenote I feel like I am blogging autowin style

That is, not using periods

leaving those sentences hanging in mid-air

I Need a 2010 Calendar and a Slice of Bread

For some reason I keep thinking today is Wednesday. I realized I forgot to do the music monday and that I have no concept of time because I'm on break. Yet I still have an English essay to write and I still have to register for next semester. Half the options I want to take are not available. The good news is that I passed science which means that I can graduate next semester granted I pass all my coming courses WHICH I WILL MARK MY WORDS. The terrifying thing is that I have to apply to university soon. The other day I got an email from UBC saying they were accepting undergraduate applications now. I am very scared. I told this to someone while also mentioning that I am scared of everything. Write this down, kids: telling someone you're afraid of everything is not impressive. It makes you look stupid.

Anyways, I'm completely mixed up. The cheery holiday music at work made me sad. This Matt Costa song that doesn't exist on the internet, All I Want For Christmas, came on and I felt all bummy because I was thinking about this person and so I crumpled a little inside. Why am I such a sucker? I don't know. I have things to do. I need to buy a calendar. I need to eat. My room is 5 degrees colder than the rest of the house. Last night my friends wanted to go out but I fell asleep on the bed. I think that means that sometimes I'm not very fun to be around.

So far this holiday season I've been a giant lump who has barely gone outside except to miss the bus or forget my wallet at home. I feel like a grandma because I can barely stay awake past 11. I'm having candy cravings but my teeth are probably going to disintegrate or something. I hate living in the West Island. I'm not buying people Christmas presents. I told my parents not to buy me presents and to tell the rest of the family not to buy me presents. I think I'm just going to buy myself a present. After all, I know what I want. What I do not want is a t-shirt or a sweater so please don't buy me those things. I need ankle socks but no one would think of buying that.

Tomorrow I'm going to do nothing except drink tea and read Ernest Hemingway.