where words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain.

2006-10-28T23:08:00.000-04:00

blogger, i am over you.

2006-05-23T20:22:00.000-04:00

i gaze sadly into the mirror at my left love handle. the one now cascading over the side of my jeans. i poke it, like one would poke anything mushy, play dough for example. hating my life and vowing to never eat again, i proceed to consume mass amounts of s'mores at maggie's camp fire. "tomorrow," i think to myself. "tomorrow."

6:29. i have 15 minutes. i switch off the alarm and open my eyes at 7:23. i am supposed to go to work with mom to aid librarians from quebec, shaky on their english. the more i deny my own ability to speak french, the better of an idea it seems for mom, who shrugs off my ambivelence as sheer modesty.

"no mom. i'm serious. i will not be able to do this."
"oh dont be silly honey, you told me you could carry on conversations!"
"yes. ones that consist of 'may i help you,' or 'what would you like to eat,' or 'some weather we're having.' Not much more, and definitely not about establishing a central library network. i barely know what that means in english."
"oh you'll be fine. you're getting paid!"

i suddenly imagine my anti-hero, bridget jones sliding down the fireman's pole, landing thong-first on the camera. bridget got paid for making a fool out of herself, i certainly could. but there would be no mark darcy in the forseeable future, and definitely no hard-hitting interview with kafir and eleanor. somehow i slip into presentable attire, apply presentable make up, and guzzle a presentable mug of coffee, making it to the car at 7:50. if you want to feel good about yourself, go wherever it is that the most middle-aged women have watched you grow up, because when you walk in as a 21-year old, finally out of her awkward "i dont know what to do with these boobs and hips" phase, they are bound to tell you that you look great. i assume it is mostly because nothing has begun to sag and my navy heels make my calves look great and add a teetery swagger to my step. i am met with:
"we were trying to figure out who the movie star with your mother was!"
and
"look at you, you could be a model! cant she be a model? what a figure."
yes. figure. as i am not 65, i am the envy of many women there. i smile and say thank you, my cascading love handle a distant, but poignant memory.

the meeting consists of me being stared at blankly by two french librarians and two english librarians, both asking me to translate sentences upon sentences at once. i try to think back to tv translators. do they listen for 2 minutes and then successfully translate everything? i do not remember. i mumble something about "maximum network loans" and the french librarians nod approvingly. somehow, success and four hours later, a lunch on the house and a beer to aid in my forgetting what had just happened...and how i'd spent the past four hours learning how library systems operate.

we stop at the supermarket on the way home, my toes numb from my shoes. i curse them and vow to remain faithful to my flats. picking up the essentials, i head home and prepare a messy linguine carbonara a la ruth reichl, new culinary role model. somehow successful despite mass amount of dishes and minor burns, i am back to a vow of early morning jogging.

tomorrow.

2006-04-21T07:12:00.000-04:00

i feel like i've just been dropped by the one thing i've ever loved, dedicated so much time to, and felt so little in return with respect to the effort i've put into it.

forget loving another human. this was enough.

i don't know what to do.

2006-02-26T16:08:00.000-05:00

i'm scared.
so scared.
of life.
of myself.
of who i am.
of the fact that i cant even articulate what frightens me to myself, let alone anyone else so i have to psych myself into being happy. and i can be happy, until i start thinking again.
i hate these words. i hate all the words i write. i hate that i don't think i'm capable of what i want to do with my life. i hate being alone all the time. i hate that you wont talk to me even though its me who should have given up on our friendship a long time ago. i hate what this place does to people.

2006-02-04T03:25:00.000-05:00

a tad in advance but still something for me to ponder is that i will be spending my birthday alone and in England this year.

it seems like it could go either way. meandering the streets of london with my i-pod and a map, being really happy or really lonely. i imagined how it would feel as i walked home from class this drizzly february day. "the weather," i thought, "will probably be a lot like this, though slightly warmer..." i thought of sitting in a cafe somewhere on some street whose name i do not know yet...reading a book, surrounded by strangers who have no idea that i am american/canadian (unless they hear me speak) or that it is my birthday or that i have no friends to speak of within phoning or walking distance, as my friend rachel, whom i am spending much of my time with, will be off studying somewhere distant for that weekend. i wondered how i'd feel. completely alone? homesick? or possibly, and hopefully, independent and actually ready to be 21. it's a big age, for some reason. everyone seems to hype it to no end, and i wonder if i'll feel that, or if i'll just gaze dreamily out the window of my imagined cafe watching everyone else's lives pass me by..

21. in england. may 5, 2006.

2006-01-12T00:13:00.000-05:00

to run through grassy backyards on cloudy days is what i want to do right now. a day when the humidity hangs lazily in the cool air. to run through the open yards of neighbourhoods, across manicured lawns as the mist starts to fall. i stop and look up at the sky. let the mist fall. or dance. the mist dances. the mist dances and i am its partner and we dance and twirl together on our grassy dance floor. it leads, i follow. Frolicking through the yards and lots of green grass and daffodils as the grey sky gazes wearily on...

this is all i want right now. lightness.

i'm okay.

2005-12-13T00:15:00.000-05:00

it's not that my blog is dying, it's just that there seems to be a lack of things worth saying for the past few months. that's not to say they've been bad. in fact, they've been some of the best i can remember. i firmly believe, as many other writers have said before me, that we write when we are sad and when we are happy we have nothing to write about. i'm sure it's been stated much more eloquently, but that's the best i can do at 12am with a final to study for.

i suppose what i can do is wrap up my semester as best as i can remember. truth be told, i can't actually believe it's almost over. i'll be home in just over a week.

the good:
- learning. so much. reading. so much. loving school more than i ever have.
- new friends, tighter friendships with older ones.
- learning to not so much love being single, but to accept it. really, this has been the first time since i can remember that i havent felt a void where another person should be...except today due to a combination of just seeing "pride and prejudice," the decemberists being signed to capitol records, finding out that ben gibbard is married, and that colin meloy is expecting a baby with his long-time girlfriend. it'll pass, as soon as i remember the fact that mr. darcy is not real.
- blossoming friendship with most amazing professor ever (ie the one who made me realize my own love of shakespeare and inherent desire to become a professor)
- first A on paper received from said professor, included in commentary was that i had "an original and convincing argument..." about hamlet. enough said.
- everything that happens at 4428.
- finally finding school fulfilling
- being allowed to take shakespeare seminar next semester. if wes remembers to let me in.
- self discovery. more on that later.

the bad:
- torie is not here. i miss her, despite my best efforts to know she is doing so wonderfully in egypt, i still find myself, in my selfish moments, wishing she was in the lagoon with me talking about silly things.
- hepburn's propensity to give me B-minuses.
- hemingway
- six papers. six. papers.
- my room is so white and i havent the time or the money to paint it. i've sufficiently covered a whole wall in posters though.
- i have seen no where near enough of david anderson, whom i sincerely believe is the closest living being to mr. darcy that i shall ever come into contact with.
- no time to remove ben and liz from fiction limbo.

ah me. i am stubborn. i am an idealist, a perfectionist, and an optimist to most but a pessimist to myself. i dont mind being single because i have never been close enough to anyone to imagine anything emerging that is worth emerging. yes. i want to be in love, but i do not have time for it, and therefore, do not mind that i'm not. despite what people tell me, that i'd find time, which i highly doubt. i havent met anyone worth finding time for. i want to get my master's, and then my phd, and then i want to make students fall in love with shakespeare. i am scared that the mistakes i made in my first two years of university will inhibit me from doing that in the institutions of my choosing. "pride and prejudice" is my favourite book ever. dammit, i'm a stereotype. i have a firm belief that many romantic comedies produced since than are rooted in the characters of jane austen. i love being a nerd, and the people who accept that and who can join in on my nerd jokes and sayings. i love that wes ran up to me in a cafe wielding a meat pie and laughing at its resemblance to the people pie in "Titus." he then told me he liked my paper. i love that for the first time in my life, school and my friends are what makes me the happiest. i love to laugh. i love that everyone i surround myself makes me laugh and that i can do the same to them. i really love that i felt it necessary to take time out of my final studying to tell you all this, and i'm glad i did.

good night. and good luck.

2005-11-01T15:20:00.000-05:00

the door to our front patio has a draft. not just any draft. a draft, so meticulously crafted as to allow whatever breeze (or in today's case, strong wind) that passes through it to turn into a constant, obnoxious whistle. a whistle that, when i first heard it, led me to believe that vanessa was home in her room; and when i found no one there, i was left alone and disturbed for several minutes. in the few days when the temperature had sunk to less than agreeable lows, the door permitted the cold montreal air to seep into our apartment that we so desperately try to keep warm without much avail. we have to shut the door to the living room, where the door to the balcony is, in order to keep the draft from penetrating every corner of our slanty little apartment.

slanty. yes. if i lift my legs up so that they are no longer touching the floor and give my desk chair a little jerk, i drift downward and diagonally across my room. fun during paper writing, no doubt. the kitchen is worse, slanting equally on each side and meeting in a little kitchen valley in the middle.

this apartment is less than ideal. the living situation one that i somehow got myself into, barely knowing one roomate and thinking i knew the other much better than it seems i actually do. my room, as much as i try to make it so, doesn't seem like mine. i have pictures from our solin days, coupled with family photos from home strewn on my wall. a drawing torie made me last year, that hung over my bed for my duration at 4428 now hangs between my bed and desk, so i can look at it from where i sit. everything in here is mine, but the room itself isnt. for the first time, i feel imperminance and an eagerness for this lease to end so i can move on. this apartment is holding me back, somehow. the draft has wrapped itself around me, unwilling to let me part with the past that i have finally decided to leave behind, with friends who no longer are a part of my life, voluntarily or not.

it is not bad, no, not by any means. it is lonely, sometimes. but i have decided to make this place one where work is done and sleep is had. it is not my primary place of socializing. it has enabled me to be, for what feels like the first time, alone. and to savour what comes with solitude. and to appreciate what comes when the solitude fades into socialization. this place has forced me to get a life. one that is not dictated by any roomate, by any governing force but myself. maybe it's sad that this finally came at age 20, but it's here, and i'm thankful that i can go places alone and not feel like something is missing.

i am optimistic. i look forward to next year. to torie. to moving in with her and moving closer to the boys. this place sometimes feels empty, like no one here understands. and maybe it's true. but how can they understand me when i cant even understand me? all in good time, things will come. things are being sorted out, futures are being planned. gpa's are being boosted, hopefully...

this draft, this slant, they are glitches in the system, ones that are slowly being worked at as i sift through my life, keeping and smoothing what i value and ridding myself of those unsightly clumps that keep getting in my way. it is good. it will get better.

the dating game.

2005-10-21T22:49:00.000-04:00

"i just want to get married;
you know, just ditch this dating shit...what is it anyway? it's pointless...to waste all your time and energy on someone who eventually wont be worth it. it drains the heart, the mind, the soul. i dont want to do it anymore."

"youre rediculous."

"why? because i havent seen anyone since i've moved here? there's no one here. everyone is wrapped up in themselves, in their pretentious little ideals, with their skinny perfect girlfriends. it's not that i haven't looked, but it's hard to look when it feels like no one is looking for you...

..i just want to get married."

"do you think that you'll just walk right up to your soulmate and that will be it? over? fini?"

"well..."

"well?"

"well...no. you have to know someone a while. but i dont want the 'date.' that initial awkwardness, who will pay? is it really a date? do i have spinach in my teeth?...no. we will be friends first. maybe not even friends. or, those friends who just randomly bump into eachother and say, 'oh wow, its been ages, lets grab a coffee...' and you grab a coffee and it's nice to talk. to catch up. to discuss the world. you know?--"

"this isnt a romantic comedy"

"i'm not saying it is...anyway, its what i want. doesnt mean its going to happen...what was i saying?..yeah. so you then one day youre together, on you biannual or whatever coffee outing and he goes, 'hey, lets just get married. i like you, you like me, we get along, we talk about life...'"

"is he hot?"

"no. guh. i dont know. youre missing the point. hes not 'hot.' he just fits. is fit the right word? let's say it is. we'd fit, you know? ive got this picture in my head that that's how it will be...not so much a head over heels 'god i cant live without seeing your face' kind of love...a love that just, is right. i think those are the kinds that endure anyway. the passion is there, but it doesnt govern the relationship, therefore it doesnt burn out...new kindling is added to it every time you laugh at eachother or you catch eachother's eyes and just smile, or when your hands brush together while youre walking and you feel that tingle in your stomach that reminds you of how much you care. to care. to love. i just want that, and once i get it, i know i'm not going to want it to end."

"hmm"

"im not saying it has to be like that you know. it's just a dream. most likely an idealization..."

"it's a pretty one."

"yeah"

"yeah."

viola sipped her coffee and looked at andrea. the candle reflected in the tin table and the glow of the cafe juxtaposed with the softly falling snow outside the fogged windows made it even warmer.

[this is all i have so far...to be continued...if i can figure out what to write]

snippets of summer

2005-09-19T15:52:00.000-04:00

...as taken from my 'musings' journal.

june 18, 2005, "driving is what we do here. staring at endless stretches of car dealerships, strip malls, and diners. balancing a satisfaction of having nothing to do with the desire to be anywhere but here. It's what long islanders do best, i think...or at least the ones who know that they'll escape eventually. for me, coming home means a temporary [and voluntary] abandonment of adulthood. ..bills, apartments, roomates, the city..i come here in an attempt to clear my mind of such things...and also to test myself and my innovation when faced with the endless nights of having nothing to do..."

june 20, 2005, "i am the official deli dj. we are now listening to sufjan stevens' "come on feel the illinoise," [two weeks before it comes out.] these people dont know how lucky they are.

"i fell asleep thinking of trying to incorporate elements of 'cocktail' [you know, that movie where tom cruise overcomes mediocrity by becoming a rediculously successful bartender with that british dude..] into my sandwich making at the deli. it could be our gimmick...ana and i tossing sliced meats about, catching them in baguettes, synchronized condiment spreading, mid-air tomato slicing, the whole nine yards...this job is eating my brain..."

july 7, 2005, "..it's already ten minutes to 8, i've been here for two hours...there's something oddly romantic about opening a store [when taken out of the context that it isn't mine and that it's on long island and that it's a deli...]; arriving at dawn, flipping on the lights, setting out the baked goods, looking out onto empty streets, knowing that most of this place is still asleep, and i should be too. i dont mind it, i'd like it even more if my days weren't ruined because of it. when lucais is here, he emerges from the kitchen (dungeon) and we sit on the counter with our coffee, listening to coldplay, slurring our words because its too damn early not to..."

part of me really misses summer so much, and everyone that made it wonderfully uneventful in the most amazing way possible.

i'm going to expand on these passages, hopefully, and have a story worth telling.

2005-09-14T16:26:00.000-04:00

"well, maybe youre more suited for working in the restaurant..."

"oh? what does that entail?"

"well, someone asks you for this salad, or that sandwich, and then you give it to them"

yes. because obviously, as ive had no proper retail experience and plenty of food industry experience, the only thing im fit to do is scoop salads. retail? that's the big leagues, kid. we can't just stick someone in there who's never sold a handbag before...right? heh...hah. i mean..come on, what do you think it is, child's play? the handbag industry is big business, kid. you have to know about patterns...straps...patterns and straps...straps and patterns. it's really quite complex...dont even get me started on buckles.

(but isn't the only way to gain retail experience to be given an opportunity?)

no really. the salad scooping biz, thats right up your alley. there's all those spoons, those vegetables...and we pay you at least 3 dollars less an hour there too. it's grand. you'll love it. there arent even windows in the basement to distract your attention from all those vats of food.

maybe i am looking for love in all the wrong places. to the cafes i go. if i wanted to be treated like a complete imbecile i would have written my resume out in crayon or something.

do any professors need a research assistant?

desperately seeking library...

2005-09-12T18:24:00.000-04:00

has anyone else noticed that just about every library this side of the coast looks ridiculously similar in the worst way possible? it's like an architect bent on fluorescent lights, metal shelves, and unaccomidation took the east coast by storm leaving poor students like me in desperate searches for the libraries of yore. you know, the ones with twisted mahogany staircases, and rows and rows of books, luring you to their shelves with natural lighting that doesnt give each of them a tinge of green. the libraries with gigantic windows, those nifty little desks, each equipped with those green lamps that turn on when you pull the gold chain attached to it. those libraries that you see on every television show and in every movie with a remote connection to academia. where are they? i go to a reasonably reputable university, with many old buildings dating from the 1800's and a library redone circa 1978 that stirs up feelings of discomfort, dizziness and an overall desire to be anywhere but there in me and many who i have talked to in the past. it's formica tables with peeling veneer deter me from nestling into it for a good, long study session. it's floors are one in the same, mazes of books, squeaking carts, and those god-awful fluorescent lights. yes, they may be more environmentally friendly, but the greenish film they cast over everything in their vicinity proves to be less than conducive to anything besides running as far away from them as possible...but this could just be me. i guess i have some sort of affinity for libraries, coming from two librarian parents, and libraries often on my mind due to being an english majore and whatnot. nerdy, no? nonetheless, i long for a library where the musty smell of books is welcome, where sitting down to read there is not a battle with heavy eyelids or a battle with fellow students for the one spot that allows natural light into its greenish corridors. montreal, show me a good, old fashioned library.

2005-06-13T21:04:00.000-04:00

oh my dear blog, i have neglected you...it's been over a month, our longest time apart, and im not even sure i have all that much to report. i have been happily living on long island for a little over a month now. being here has brought out the resourceful rachel, as we are on a constant search for new things to do. we generally do one of the following:
a) go out to eat
b) go to someone's house to eat
c) go to the beach on the north shore during the day
d) sneak onto the beach on the north shore at night
e) repeat c and d but with south shore

in the works are:
a) trips to MoMA on free fridays
b) a trip to MoCCA
c) many trips to brooklyn
d) a road trip with ana to montreal
e) a trip (or several) to philly with sir robert of islipton
f) montauk
g) trying to find other things to do besides a-e above

as you can see, many of the more fun sounding 'in the works' things involve not being on long island...heh, probably need to work on that resourcefullness a bit more.

im having a great time with my friends here, though things are a bit different as three of the girls i consider to be my favourites all have boyfriends, which makes for awkward hanging outs..sometimes. i guess it is just one of those things i will have to accept. i hate that i feel selfish because if ana is hanging out with alex, catena with denis, lauren with dan, i am kind of left out of things to do, of double dates, etc...so, i have been spending much more time at home with books, foodtv, and conan.

but things could be worse, since i am also sharing my house with the lovely melissa martin, my partner in singleton crime, my wifey, and the keeper of my second wardrobe. besides the unmentionables, we share just about everything. we are getting along splendidly, though she's just taken on a second job and so now i will not be seeing as much of her, not in her right mind anyway. we have fun.

i guess i should voyage into the analytical portion of this increasingly lengthy blog entry. and now, let me present:

"things rachel hates about herself: the summer chronicles"

how i am completely oblivious to and in denial of any kind of crush someone has on me. not only that, but i found out that i was, in fact, liked back a YEAR after the whole crush episode. childish, yes. but god why cant i just accept the fact that once in a while someone does like me. it's like some weird self-imposed stigma that i am undesirable to EVERYONE. my love life, rather than existing, has been one of many missed opportunities. not only that, but no matter how much i vow to myself that i wont let anymore pass me by, as soon as i see him, i can only smile bashfully and hope that things will just fall into place.

how i am in constant fear of coming off as one or more of the following:
a) arrogant
b) desiring pity and/or attention for the sake of feeling better about myself
c) trying too hard to be funny, clever, etc...
honestly, all i want to do is have an evening that i dont look back on and contemplate what i did wrong.

how this summer is turning into another uneventful mass of time that i will forget instead of remember it as i wanted it to be.

the thing is, im not sad, i'm not loafing around in the depressed state that plagued me all last year. in fact, i'm pretty happy...but sometimes, i just think about all these things and wonder what my life would be like if i'd have just acted on impulse once in a while.

roll credits.

::set out for a great adventure::

2005-04-26T16:04:00.000-04:00

it's over. over. my second year at mcgill, the weeks of little to no sleep, the tears of my insuffiency, the waking up knowing that there's nothing that would happen that day to make me happy...it's over. for now. for four months anyway. it feels...light. i guess light is the right word. i woke up this morning knowing there was absolutely nothing i had to get out of bed for. that i could just be there as long as i wanted...drift in and out of sleep at my leisure until i was ready to move...it was glorious.

but there are downsides to finishing what has turned out to be a less than fulfilling school year. after my last final, receiving yet another b- paper that i worked my ass off on, after writing an essay on my final, finishing it, and realizing that i could have done a much better one if i'd picked different writers, i walked back to the metro station with vanessa in mostly silence because through my mind ran the endless criticisms that my papers had received, the lack of clarity have for what my future will become, everything that has made my life a giant nightmare for the past year or so. and i wanted to cry. the skies were overcast, it was cold, it felt more like november than the end of april, and in my head, things felt more scattered than they ever have before. i wanted to cry. just sit down on the middle of the sidewalk on rue mcgill college and let it all out, because i havent let myself cry in ages. my dog is sick, really sick, she's been my best friend since i was 12...school is one big mess, i feel like i've fucked the rest of my years here up with shitty grades that i can at least say i tried really hard for, which worries me. for the first time in a long time, i feel stupid. actually stupid. below average. like i dont belong at one of the top 10 universities in the world. i feel like all those honors awards all those remarks about my intelligence are no longer applicable in this world of constant let downs. i dont want to feel like this. but i do. i feel like im on the wrong path to whatever long-term happiness i hope to gain, i feel like it's too late to try and change things...not for another two years anyway. i feel like i need time to figure this all out. just time. i want to travel, i want to find something that truly inspires me, i want to learn how to play an instrument, i want to be able to sing in front of people again. i miss everything that used to make me feel like more than a number in a sea of english majors who are all much smarter than i am. i dont want to be on a path of constant mediocrity anymore. i want to excell..at something. just something to make me feel like i am someone special, because right now, i am at a point where i understand why no one wants to be with me. im just...everyone. ideas like this dont really squeeze their way into my mind as of lately. i've been happy. really. i love life, i love a lot of things about montreal, my friends, how lucky i am to just come home to a house and food and all that...but at the same time something is missing.

it could be that i just saw the arcade fire last night, the best show of my entire life. those are people who are inspired and make beautiful music and have FUN. maybe i should just learn how to play instrument and start a band and go on tour. yes. good plan.

gibberish. i'm talking gibberish. but i want something more than piles and piles of books and papers that i hate writing and no matter how hard i work on them, theyre never enough. so something will change. what that is, i dont know. but rest assured, something is going to change.

2005-04-10T16:28:00.000-04:00

so here i am, school two weeks from being over, me 2 years away from graduating mcgill with a degree in english that will get me no where but grad school, no place to live next year, finals in the midst, and i am happy. yes, happy. because frankly, i'm downright tired of wallowing in my own sadness. it's weird, you can talk to as many psychoanalysts as you want, read as many self-help books as there are stars in the sky, but really, at least for me, the only way to be happy is to decide that you want to be. and i did. nothing really triggered it, i was just sitting on the metro on my way back from a less than eventful day of school, after a week of all night paper writing extravaganzas and i realized that half of the reason i'm so damn sad all the time is because i let myself be. and i'm sick of it. so, thats it. i'm through with all this melancholy nonesense. there are parts of my life that arent doing well, thats for sure, but i cant let it outweigh the good that is everywhere. the spring that has come to montreal, the green that is starting to emerge from layers of brown, the sun, the fact that i have beautiful friends who care so much about me, that i have a bed to come home to at night and breakfast and coffee to wake up to every morning. it's really quite odd how i just had to get it into my system that being happy isn't passe. and now, i walk down the streets not worrying about my problems, but looking past them. trying so hard to just look past them, at what's to come, at all the nothing i'll get to do this summer, at day trips to montauk, day trips to manhattan, weekend trips back to montreal, seattle in august, all the amazing people i am coming home to. this summer is going to be a summer of life. not every moment will be happy, i am by no means hanging up my wit, cynicism, and sarcasm, oh no, not in the least. but i am turning over a new leaf. life will be loved, cherished, for the good and the bad...and i'm excited.

i woke up the other day, finished with my papers, briefly cherishing the moments i could spend conscious in bed..because i didnt have to immediately fling my tired legs over the sides and shuffle over the my computer to finish writing. it would have been lovely to share this moment with someone next to me, just beginning to stir...because really, lying in bed alone gets kind of boring after a few minutes. but i got up, made breakfast, sat on the patio with the cat, and enjoyed spring. then andy wrangled a brie from provigo and everything was perfect.

i'm through with all of this longing, feelings of unrequieted love, of insufficiency. my day will come. and hopefully, it will be worth the wait. until then i will smile, keep walking, and of course, keep dreaming.

2005-04-08T00:19:00.000-04:00

today marks the beginning of rachel learning how to love life.

more on it at a later date.

2005-03-26T15:16:00.000-05:00

i broke her heart.

and now i may not be able to say goodbye.

big pun.

2005-03-14T17:22:00.000-05:00

in honor of my punning roomates and i:

here's to punning

check out the rest of mitch's 'nothing nice to say' here. it's good, i promise.

shamless plug

2005-03-12T00:20:00.000-05:00

chapter 5 is up and primed for your reading pleasure. if you don't immediately pick up on it, i'm playing around with narrative points of view. i'm not exactly sure how to incorporate various pov's, all faulkner-esque as torie pointed out, but i guess liz and ben will be my experiment to do just that.

something else i've realized about this short story stuff: writing fiction is damn hard. i get this feeling most of the time that what i write doesnt even do my characters justice. that i'm somehow harming them by bringing them into existane in the first place. any writers out there know what i mean?

also, as discussed with torie today, i think in a way, writing fiction somehow helps the author figure him or herself out. it sounded more profound when we discussed it at berri metro today. that the exploration of characters is actually the exploration of multiple aspects of oneself is what makes writing such a meaningful experience on so many levels. i think it's true. through liz and ben im making a lot of discoveries about myself. hopefully that wont take away from their story too much though.

at any rate, i just spent upwards of 3 hours writing and revising it so go have a read. in conclusion, after 6 hours spent studying at l'utopik, i'm going to sleep.

2005-03-09T22:06:00.000-05:00

[...just you wait]

"your arguement is rather weak"

2005-03-02T14:11:00.000-05:00

think about a relationship. not just any relationship, but a relationship that you put your life, your whole life into. almost every waking moment spent with thought of another. the time, the energy, the stress. if it all works out, it is rewarding in the end. very rewarding.

now think about it not working out. think about being dumped for someone else, walking in on the one you love sleeping with another, your best friend sleeping with your boyfriend. think about anything that has the potential to tear your insides to shreds.

think about everything you put in to this one aspect of your life no longer mattering in the slightest bit. it falls apart,crumbles, to the ground; and all thats left is a pile of what was, or even, what never was but was always anticipated.

school has been the other half in this relationship for me. this semester has been one of sacrifice (of my social life), of stress, of sleepless nights or nightmarish sleeps, of no time for for friends, for myself.

i just plain dont have time. i dont have time to figure out how to rid myself of this library fine that i dont have anything to do with. i dont have time to go get some fucking milk so i can eat something. if i get a breath, its spent resting or sitting and basking in doing nothing, which doesnt happen all that much anyway.

i got my first two graded assignments back today. two b-minuses, or sorry one b- and one "b-/c+." not terrible grades by any means. except if you know me. if you know how much i put into school, how i resolved to do better than last semester, to do my work, to read and re-read every poem, to take notes in the margains, to take notes in class. two pages of notes per class is my average. i dont even know how long i spent on these papers. i dont want to think about it. even with everything i'm doing, i'm getting the same grades i got last semester when i did practically nothing. i could take this as a great excuse to go out and have some fun, but i'm not. instead, i am broken. this was my life. this is my life. it's nothing to brag about, but school was my lover if you want me to keep using that metaphor. school and i spent almost every waking moment together, and if we werent together, school was always in the back of my mind. however, the work i put in was not reciprocated. instead i am sitting here, fighting back the tears that will inevitably come, and wishing that i had something else to put some effort into, but i dont, and therefore, this means a whole fucking lot to me. it's pathetic.

this was my life these past couple of months, and my life has now reached utter mediocrity. i have never been this stressed, this full of anxiety, my dreams are dreams of failed exams, missed classes, bad grades. my days are filled with worry, with work. and nothing. i have nothing.

i feel empty.

this was my life and my life just slapped me in the face for no apparent reason.

"maybe this isnt what youre cut out for," said vanessa sadly looking into my reddening eyes, "maybe youre meant to be a writer of your own work, not a critic of someone else's." she could very well be right. so why will i force myself through two more years of this pain knowing that there's nothing i can do to make it any more bearable? my parents wont let me take a year off to figure out what the hell im doing with my life so what? i have to just get through this? hundreds of sleepless nights, of days spent worrying, of work, of margain notes, with nothing in return. yes, i'm passing. yes, i could be doing worse, but goddammit i want to do better and i truly think it impossible to work any harder than i already am without completely ruining myself.

i fell asleep last night with chest pains and hoped they'd be gone when i woke up.
theyre still here.

i'll add it to the list of things to subconsciously moniter while i focus my efforts on the composition of countless 8 page papers on 4 stanzas of verse that i apprently have no knowledge of. i'll keep writing "weak" and "descriptive" (in a derogatory way) papers that never impress anyone. and i'll get them back and write more depressing blogs about why cant seem to do anything right.

this [school] is my life, and metaphorically, it's not worth living.

2005-03-01T23:05:00.000-05:00

chapter 4 is finally up for those of you who havent seen it. im not completely satisfied with it, but i think if anything, a lot of what liz says will be divided up between chapters as she and we slowly figure out who she is and who ben is and who they are together.

how does that sound?

to be completely honest, i have no idea where this story is going. i have never written any fiction and this is my first endeavour away from the confines of a syllabus. and i love it. writing for me, writing what hasnt been written before, somewhat writing my own dreams and hopes for whatever is coming my way, it is liberating. ive gone through so many artistic media in hopes of finding a proper way of expressing myself...i cant draw or paint much past silly pencil sketches. i tried photography and feel inadequate at it, never once, until recently did i sit down and write for me. and when i did, and as i do, i'm pretty sure i've found my medium. and i love it.

i am an english major afterall. i guess it's only fitting. i know, after reading the work of my peers though, that i have a long long way to go before i can even think of myself as writing things to the best of my ability. torie writes incredibly revealing and endearing blogs, andy writes deep poetry that im pretty sure i dont even understand, kyle writes stories that drown mine in an ocean of creativity that i dont think im even capable of grasping. me? i write stories that combine some real life events with what i wish had happened with what id love to happen and god only knows what else. but im on my way, i hope, to doing something i love doing that forces me to think past what i've read in books and into my own domain of creativity. challenging myself and overcoming it with words that i can be proud of makes me happy.

i wish i had a mentor.

i wish i had a ben.

my train of thought has been uncoupled...

2005-02-24T01:08:00.000-05:00

i was 13 when i first decided that i had an inferiority complex. i confided in my seat mate on the busride to school one day.

"i think i have an inferiority complex"

she replied,

"what's inferiority?"

so there you have it. another momentous occaision in my somehow inferior history. maybe the first actual assessment of what has long plagued this seemingly happy-go-lucky-middle-class-jewish-girl-from-the-suburbs.

and ive been thinking.

(since thinking is basically all you can do when youre vacationing in a place like long island and all of your friends are at school)

maybe the very normalcy of my existance is what makes me feel so, well, abnormal. ive had no life changing, stunning events, no parental estrangement, no real life i guess. its not to say that what makes you is all the shit you go through, but really, part of what makes you is all the shit you go through. maybe that's why i worry about coming off as bland all the time, i've lead an overally bland life; on the surface anyway. (my roomates will now hound me with beige jokes..)

i guess what's affected me most is my sister. for all of you readers (as it seems there are some, and i thank you for reading), my sister was born without arms below her elbows. meaning, she is physically handicapped. what this meant, for me (because i could spend pages and pages talking about everything she has overcome and how much i respect her for it, and i do), but for me, this meant verrrrry little attention from anyone besides my parents when we were in the same room. this meant my grandparents openly favoring her in front of me, this meant people constantly referring to me as 'molly's sister,' and it meant me feeling less than special. it meant my high school chorus teacher telling me how shed heard "wonderful things about my sister" as she gazed scornfully at my less-than-wonderful self. so growing up, i floated from girl scouts to piano lessons to figure skating lessons all in an attempt to set myself apart from my sister. and if i remember (mom, correct me if im wrong) i was mediocre at everything.

to grow up in the shadow of someone 4 years younger than you is not easy.

i think it made me more introverted, more of a thinker, more in tune with how other people are looking at me, what they see, what they dont see...maybe too in tune. definitely more analytical. definitely over-analytical.

kyle told me that he can tell everything about a person within the first 20 minutes of meeting them.

i immediately began to worry..because, well, it takes me much longer than that to be myself. in fact, it's taken me months, even years with those i'm closest to. im not saying what either he or i or anyone that i ever meet seeks instantaneous intimacy, because that doesnt happen, but i still worried that what he thought of me wasnt who i really was. it was like a window of oppurtunitiy i didnt know was available had shut and i was helpless to reopen it. and then, even as he was right there next to me, i began to think about things i'd said, wonder if they were benign or interesting or seemed like i was trying too hard to be what i wasnt...

i do this a lot.

this overanalyzing.

i fear scrutiny. i fear comparisons to others. to the mollys of someone else's world.

ana told me that i continually carry around a mental safety net wherever i go that prevents me from getting hurt but it also prevents me from gaining experience. from doing things that could, in fact, lead to pain, but also could just as easily lead to good. it's true. and i'd get rid of it if i could...but i cant. as much as my stubborn self hates to admit it, i need help. i need help being myself. is that pathetic? or is that how everyone else goes about losing their respective safety nets too?

welcome to my brain. its a frightening place...

[your heart skips beats, mine beats faster]

2005-02-20T21:13:00.000-05:00

on the train ride back today i felt lost. like a part of me i didnt know existed was trying so hard to exist and yet i still didn't know what it was or what to do with it. i dont know if something is missing or something new is here. and really, i dont know who i am. i wish i could pour my heart out, say profound things, actually be me. but i dont know how to be; or i do but something holds me back. there's so much i should have said. i feel like sometimes i come off as a complete airhead or worse, just dull. sometimes i just feel like all that i want to say comes out as just air. empty space. somewhere i gained this apprehension, this timidness. it makes me feel like who i am is in a sealed box. i cant get out and no one can hear me yell. the yelling being what i really want to say. but no one can hear it. sometimes even i cant. i used to be able to.

i want this summer to be different. i want adventures. i want to do things i'm afraid to do. go places i've never been. i want to learn how to be me, because somewhere along the way i lost myself in these books and these people and this life. this summer is going to be dedicated to the rediscovery of myself and to those who help to find me. this summer will be the summer i tell my children about when they are 19 and feel so helpless in such a big world of everybodies trying to be somebodies. this summer will be the summer i tell my husband about when we talk and reminisce about being young and silly and free. i will tell him that that was the summer when i learned, or re-learned, how to be all of those things.

::where the rain gets in::

2005-02-17T12:17:00.000-05:00

when i was two years old, i wanted to be a hole fixer. my father and i would spend endless hours 'repairing' those unsightly holes in the sides of our street near my house. i'd fill them in with sand or dirt, spread it evenly with a stick or leaf and voila, fixed hole. early sign of OCD? who knows...but the point is, i wanted to be a hole fixer.

i got older, was taken to a few disney movies, and settled on becoming a princess, or basically, anyone with enough wealth to live in a palace or a mansion. i wanted chandeliers and high gothic celings and belle's yellow gown. those were girly years spent singing 'a whole new world' while swinging on my swingset in the back yard.

dreams are so easy to have when youre younger. dreams of fixing holes or being a princess, being famous, being known. everything is big because you are so small.

but now all that seemed big has gotten smaller and what really matters becomes clearer. or at least nearer on the horizon. very few of us go on to become princesses or movie stars, and maybe too many go on to be hole fixers. and i am left here, torn between my dreams of getting my masters in english somewhere in england or ireland and moving out west and going to culinary school. i dont know what i want, but whatever it is that i decide i want, i know i will be happy chasing not the dreams of the mediocre, but the dreams of me.

finding me will be the hard part and the best part.

::homesick for a place that doesnt exist::

2005-02-08T18:33:00.000-05:00

today was the first day i ever thought of ending it all.
ok.
that was a dramatic introduction to what will be a less than melancholy entry, no concern necessary. but today, as the metro doors closed without me inside, as i stood waiting for what i hoped would be a less-crowded one to come next, i looked down at the tracks and without really thinking about it, pictured myself jumping in. not really to end it all, but rather, to chase after the train that had so spitefully closed its doors before i could get into it. but i'd keep running, past my stop at mt royal, just keep running. all i wanted to do was run away. im not even sure from what or to where, but for some reason, thats what i suddenly imagined myself doing. i'm not particularly stressed, i'm actually happy with my classes, the work i've been doing, and my academic life in general. my social life is sorely lacking, but i dont really mind. so, what exactly am i running from?

rush hour?
annoying hairy backed, bald men who somehow manage to squeeze themselves into the metro even though the four people that squeezed on before him shouldnt have made it either?
myself?
reality?

well whatever it is im running from brings me to my next point. today, after my imagination somehow managed to land me in the metro tunnels, it then proceeded to place me in the middle of nowhere. today, for the first time, i missed the middle of nowhere. really, i've only been in the middle of nowhere three times in my life. once in the south of israel surrounded by farms and dessert, again in ireland surrounded by sheep, horses, and the post office/grocery store/pub that made up the small town we called home for almost three weeks, and this past october in renfrew ontario, about an hour and a half north of ottawa and most definitely the middle of no where. but i longed for none of these places in particular. my middle of no where is a cabin, surrounded by endless green hills, with mountains in the distance one way, and the ocean in the distance in the other direction. my cabin is warm during the day and cool enough at night that i have to sleep bundled up in my blankets. the breeze drifts across my bed. there is no such thing as the sound of traffic at night. the only thing i hear is the rustling of the trees and the night creatures that have taken to chirping outside my window. did i mention there are lots of trees? there are. trees are one of my favorite things to look at. every morning my cat pokes her head in my door and i stir and she jumps on my bed, purring and kneading my blanket. i'd like to think she loves me for more than the fact that i keep her warm and well-fed. my middle of no where involves no metro, there are no depanneurs, no 24-hour sushi restaurants a block away, in fact, there are no blocks, there are streets, with houses occasionally sprouting up. the days are calm and sunny, the nights cool but not cold. and for once, i am happier doing nothing than doing something. doing nothing with you (who's "you?" i am not quite sure, but with every good story, there is a "you.") as we sit on the porch and talk about dreams, both crushed and newly hatched. doing nothing with you as we watch the cat chase the wind. doing nothing is really doing something when you think about it. and the something i want to do is of the nothing variety.

i know myself well though. eventually i will get bored in my ideal middle of nowhere. i will long for the city i so wanted to run from. i will crave avacado rolls at 4am. i will curse the day i had to start paying for gas again.

or will i? will you let me?

[dreaming]

2005-02-03T22:23:00.000-05:00

she rolled over in bed and stretched. the sun filtered through the curtains and reflected onto the celing in the shape of a chinese fan. her eyes focused on vanessa's bed, across the room from her's. she sprung up glaring at the extra figure next to vanessa.

"what is going on??" she growled, remembering how they said they'd NEVER bring anyone home without warning, "what is HE doing here?"

"oh rach i'm so sorry, are you upset?" she replied

"YES"

"dont be upset rachel," said the man. the man she had now grown to hate.

their bare arms touched

she abruptly swung her legs over the side of the bed, threw on jeans and socks, and slammed the door behind her. scowling, she trudged down the hallway.

the hallway.

the hallway?

why is the hallway so long? so looonnnnnng.

then it hit her.

"carpet?"

it was hardwood.

"oh god i swear it was hardwood"

walking

walking

walking

walking

she looked out to where the balcony was. was

it's

a

deck???

A FUCKING DECK?? withaswimmingpoolandafuckingbed. afuckingbedwhyisthereafuckingbedonmydeckthatwasntherelastnight????

there is a queen size bed on my deck. with bedding. and a canopy. and it's billowing in the wind. i dont get it.

and

and

and

we're on the ground floor?? wehaveayard.

and carpet

there's carpet

and our kitchen

is

yellow...

with a tulip border

it was brown

i swear to god it was brown

just walk a little further, it will

it will get

it will get better?

w h y i s m y b a t h r o o m o n e r o o m??
it was two
it definitely was two
one for the toilet and one for the tub
and it definitely
definitely
wasnt all cermaic tile
no sir
was not

just keep on

walking

walking into the west wing which is no longer the west wing and its got walls and yellow and flowers and a bed and...childrens snowpants hanging on the wall?

1
2
3
4
5

pairs of

i am standing in the west wing

er

nursery?

i lean up against the back wall

wish the door was still there

so i could

run

away

slide my back down the wall

sitting on the floor

holding my knees

close my eyes

it's

just

a

dream

"rachel!"

"kathryn??"

i am still against the yellow tuliped walls of the west wing

"how do you like it? we broke through into next door too so now little albert can have the storage room! and mrs johnson will have more space to live! isnt that great?"

"sure...great.."

WHAT??

she disappeared back into the newly visible room from next door.

"BUT WHO IS MRS JOHNSON??? dont you all realize that all shes doing is letting her kid live her so she doesnt have to pay for a baby sitter!! and you LET her! we have homework! and

and

sharp objects!!"

i am on the couch. she is on the couch. i/she = me.

"rachel. rob, andy, and i decided it was ok when you were sleeping. its just a kid. you just have to throw something plastic at it when it gets annoying."

torie hates kids. doesnt she?

"i

i

i

dont know"

but the kid

(baby

toddler)

is doing backflips across our newly carpeted kitchen floor.

sit up
look around
no boy in vanessa's bed
no carpet

dreams make great blog entries.

2005-01-22T22:46:00.000-05:00

i was talking to kyle today and he decided that we need to save our lives. to feel again. to love life, or at least find a part of life to love. he fears we're a lost generation. and it's true. what are we? (said hemmingway). and more importantly, what are we going to be remembered as?

that boy has a way of reading me like a book even though he's miles away. his random emails somehow manage to ring so true in the goings-on in my life. this time, it involves me, torie, and the possible creation of something to be remembered by. it may be small, low-budget, silly to some, insignificant to others, but in publishing a zine of my words with her pictures, i will at least have something i can remember me by. and really, thats all i need.

i'm cold, and tired, and my eyelashes freeze every time i step outside. all i want to do is sit in my apartment with a cup of tea and read. as happy as i am to love class, it's sad that what i hope to attain in the next coming months are A's rather than personal satisfaction. not to say i wont be personally satisfied when a straight A and B transcript comes my way, but theres a vast difference between academic achievement and personal achievement. of course you all know that, but sometimes i think we just need to read it to reinforce it within us. i want so badly to be creative, to have more time to dedicate to liz and ben. i dont want to leave them hanging for another two months. i want to do more. i want days to have more than 24 hours because i dont feel like im doing enough. in both ways. the homework will never end unless i spend every waking moment dilligently doing it, the longing to be something more than a mcgill id number will never cease unless i settle for mediocrity in school.

"i drink because i want to forget that i drink." i often think about that line from the little prince and how it is so applicable to so many feelings that are inside me all the time (alcohol-induced anything not being one of those things.) but now, even now, and as always, the line pops into my head, i know why its there, but i cant get farther than that.

why is it there?

this just in...

2005-01-16T22:46:00.000-05:00

in order to confuse myself less and you the readers even less so, i've created a new blog strictly dedicated to my story of elizabeth and ben.

their chronicle is now located at:

http://alwaystimeforcoffee.blogspot.com/

please read. leave feedback if you choose.

the posts i made here will also remain as hommage to their creation. enjoy.

rachel

better late than never...

2005-01-16T19:05:00.000-05:00

"i've been listening to the same cd on repeat for 2 weeks. if that isnt a telltale sign that i'm a bit unstable, i don't know what is."

"people go through phases"

"not me though. i dont have time. if i'm not reviewing it, im onto something completely different within a few days. there's only so much of one cd i can take before i want to throw it out the window and watch the garbage truck crush it under one of its wheels"

"oh liz. it'll be ok. just give it time, it hasn't even been three weeks yet, you'll get used to him not being there."

"yeah. sure. i'll just wait it out..."

she paused

"we havent spoken since he called to tell me he'd made it and was safe and sound..and that's it."

"oh..elizabeth..i'm so sorry"

"it's fine. listen i'm gonna go finish my review of the new arcade fire cd. thanks for everything, i'll talk to you soon Meg"

"bye love, take care."

liz sighed as the phone clicked on the other end of the line. she hung up and shivered as the cat weaved in and out of her ankles.

"well at least one of us is happy" she said, peering down at alice and patting her head. she walked to her desk, turned on the stereo, set the cd to track three and attempted to listen as "une anee sans lumiere" crept from the speakers.

"a week and a half and i'm only on the third song" she mumbled, staring blankly at her laptop. two half-hearted paragraphs stared back. but she was already gone. fumbling with a highlighter, her mind drifted to a few months ago. same spot, different article. different time.

liz blankly capped and uncapped her highlighter.

"well? how goes?"

she gasped

"holy shit when did you get here ben?"

"oh i've been watching you for at least 5 minutes. has the almighty highlighter inspired you yet?"

"shut up you douchebag, at least i dont bite my nails to the skin in order to spit out something worth reading"

"touche" he said with a smile and plopped down on their bed behind liz's desk.

liz turned around and grinned.

"i was talking to Nutmeg today and.."

"what kind of a name is Nutmeg anyway? i've been meaning to ask.."

"her mom's an interesting character."

"fond of eggnog too?"

"shut up. let me finish."

"by all means, continue."

"SO, i was talking to Nutmeg today and she said her and DC are thinking of starting up a zine. theyre looking for some potential first articles and wanted to know if we'd contribute"

"anything?"

"basically. i think it's primarily short fiction somehow having to do with montreal, or music, or music in montreal. you know. our lives."

"ah yes. life. good topic i'd say"

"so..?" she got up and walked over to the bed, flopping sideways next to him.

"you know i cant get over how cute you are when i watch you eat and your nostrils flare? it's rediculous and quirky and i fucking love it"

she blushed and smiled.

"nutmeg always told me how that very quality is what's going to make some guy fall hopelessly for me. like push him over the edge. when you notice something like that, there's no turning back. not until you wince everytime you watch me eat because you cant stand how much my nostrils flare when i chew"

"nutmeg is a smart girl."

they looked at eachother. he kissed her behind her ear. she buried her head in his neck.

his smell. his eyelashes on her face. his lips on hers. moving. sheets shifting. falling. the warmth. the safety.

they lied next to eachother, still sideways under the freshly washed, now slightly dissheveled white sheets. the sun as set and they watched the reflections of the night dance across the ceiling.

"fucking highlighers" liz opened her eyes to find the cd had ended, the highlighter had fallen, and the screen saver was on. the scrolling marquis read "remember me"

"how could i forget?" she said looking at the screen.

without thought, she began to fish around for the address where ben told her he was staying. the computer closed, the article waiting for completion was forgotten, the empty chair rocked, the bed was cold and empty.

alice sleepily watched liz's pink scarf pass through the door as it slammed before she drifted back to sleep on the couch.

2005-01-09T23:29:00.000-05:00

time and time again, i catch my mind wondering down its usual tangents to prospects that i cant decide whether or not to consider. i think about all the bad, what could go wrong, what will most definitely prevent everything, the pain...is it worth it? today torie and i were lying on my lagoon (bed) talking about everything; love, pain, rejection, heartbreak, relationships, friendships..and i told her about how my fears of things that havent even happened get in the way of all i want or hope for...and she said something to the extent of: "does it matter? no matter what things will happen, but good things will also happen, and in the end, maybe the good will be worth the bad that could potentially not happen at all.." something like that, right? or maybe im just fragmenting my own advice into what she said as well. either way, it's true. now, to get it through my thick skull and actually put it to good use...that will take some time.

2005-01-06T22:16:00.000-05:00

i'm settling back into life at 4428. the roomies are still incredible, beef is still gassy, and i'm on my way to being happy again. i hope. i'm trying to find classes i actually like and will not simply tolerate. it sounds silly, of course classes i like should be a priority. but it's hard. i'm realizing i dont just want to squeak by any more and put everything off. and i've actually realized it, as in, i'm going to do finally do something to alleviate the problem. and that "something" is my homework. on time. granted, it's been less than a week, but i intend to keep it up this time. i feel different, i feel like i have something to work toward, though i'm not sure what it is.

in the back of my mind, all i can see is me in 15 years at my cute little seattle cafe with weekly shows and rotationg art sales on the wall. i'm wearing old jeans with a mix of paint stains, food stains, holes all around them, worn out all-stars on my feet and an old t-shirt from my montreal days. my hair is pinned back in its usual ponytail with pieces falling out on the sides, and im scurrying about the kitchen, making sure the chefs are assembling the sandwiches as i like, the garnish is fresh, the salad dressing emulsified. this is what i want. yes, i know it will be hard, even depressing at first. loans will have to be taken out, years of hardship endured. but if it works (when it works), it will be worth it.

happiness is worth anything to get there.

2005-01-03T23:32:00.000-05:00

oh why oh why do i surround myself with people who continually make me feel like i am not worth the ground i walk on?

why do i feel like i have to watch everything i say so that it doesnt get reconfigured by someone else into something completely different?

new years resolutions -
1. trust no one, tell my secrets to my journal, my ana, and my torie
2. go to the gym.. a lot
3. eat healthier and make lots of salad with lemon juice dressing
4. find at least one class in school i actually love being in..i miss that feeling
5. do better in school, appreciate the material and not the professor
6. end unhealthy relationships

i'm done with it all. i can't take this anymore. i can barely stand the fact that i cant even set so much as a foot into this city without something being stirred up.

i'm moving to seattle. alone.

silliness at 1 in the am

2004-12-30T01:20:00.000-05:00

call me old-fashioned, but what i want to do more than anything right at this very moment is lie close to you as iron and wine's cover of "such great heights" plays quietly on in the background.

damn you garden state. you are too perfect.

musings from the big apple

2004-12-19T13:48:00.000-05:00

i flew into new york's laguardia airport yesterday, as i almost always do when i go home for a break or a long weekend. the plane ride is a wonderful thing, spanning about an hour from gate to gate. this, like most other commuter flights usually means the planes are littered with middle-aged businessmen on their way to or from meetings or whatever it is businessmen attend. on my last flight to new york, at the end of september, i caught an evening jet out of dorval. since it was the evening, after whatever meetings were held in whatever hotels that day, i was the youngest and possibly only female passenger in a sea of suits, ties, and briefcases. sitting at the gate, i looked around at all of the men on their cellphones talking to clients or about clients or calling their wives to tell them they were on their way. i wondered what they did, if they liked what they were doing or if they just did it because thats what they felt the "should" do. the only real jobs involove commuter flights and business suits, right? did they struggle through four or more years of university only to get a job they knew would bring in enough income to get married and raise a family in a comfortable suburbian home? did they even once think of what could happen if they kept on drawing, or writing, or doing something that truly filled their hearts with happiness rather than their bank accounts with money?

as our plane neared new york city the lights below became more concentrated, flickering below as i gazed out the window, still pondering the men who surrounded me. i looked below me as manhattan came into view, the lights i'd missed for so long, the rushing, the dreams, the vacancy on the southern tip of the island that in my mind, could never be filled like it was before 2001. i redirected my gaze around me, everyone was buried in their paperwork or their laptops. i guess maybe they couldnt get the same appreciation for the skyline that i had, seeing as theyd probably seen the same view that morning, or the night before. but to be honest, i think no matter how many times i fly over it, i will never tire of seeing those lights that i have for so long held dear.

as our plane coasted to the gate at the aircanada terminal, i gazed out toward the skyline again and this time, was greeted by fireworks. i couldnt help but smile. i hadn't been home in over a month and not only did i get to see the skyline at night, but i got to see fireworks in the distance. it was beautiful. if nothing else could soften these guys, this must do the trick. the colours over the skyline, the memories of fairs and rides and youth, "someone else besides me has to be watching this," i wondered, unable to wipe the silly grin from my face. i looked around the cabin to find no one else looking out the window, men turning their cellphones on as soon as they could, undoing their seatbelts, taking down their bags from the bins, and anxiously awaiting for the door to be opened so they could hop into their four-door sedans and head back home where they could greet their wives and collapse into bed, knowing they had to be up for work the next day. then i realized that i never wanted to be this. i dont want to forget the beauty in the world that i once held so dear. i dont want to follow the standard educational regimine because everyone else does, because money matters more than happiness. no. this was not me. why was i at mcgill majoring in english? i dont want to be an english teacher, i dont want to be a professor, or a biographer. i dont really know what i want, but i dont want to be this.

so there. i think i've pinpointed it. there was when i realized that mcgill probably wasnt for me. maybe if there was ONE creative writing class, or ONE photography class i'd be a happier student. but i cant immerse myself full time in books by other authors and papers based on ideas that have been written about for decades. just ONCE, i'd like to write about something that comes from me. just ONCE, i'd like to be graded on what i am, not how well i can extract and rewrite information. just ONCE, i want to do something i enjoy in school.

so, if in 30 years, youre a business suit on a flight from god knows where to god knows where else, i'll be the lady in the corner, smiling, watching the fireworks.

2004-12-16T21:10:00.000-05:00

the more i try to write, the more i see what i want to be the realistic but fantastic story of liz and ben turning into a paperback novel they sell in 7-11 and the like.

so therefore, until inspiration strikes and one of the many drafts i'm writing finally emerges as a true representation of what i see for liz and ben, they will currently float about writer's limbo. dont worry, it's a nice place, much like an endless green meadow filled with free starbucks coffees and the like. but dont worry, no one litters.

in rachel's world of non-fiction, things are alright i guess. i have my last final exam tomorrow morning at 9am, in poetics. i head back to new york saturday morning where family, friends, real food, and relaxation await me. oh it's long-needed and well deserved. im tired. im drained, emotionally, physically, and mentally. nothing seems to be functioning correctly. i've lost all sense of time, and have somehow managed to render myself emotionally numb throughout exam time in hopes of higher levels of concentration. however, the switch flips back on without my discretion and all the things that have ailed me drop atop my head like an anvil on that coyote from looney tunes. id like to think i'll sort at least a few things out over break, but the two weeks between now and when classes start again will probably be barely enough time to clear my head of pastoral elegies and villanelles.

sigh.

2004-12-07T19:26:00.000-05:00

i sometimes doubt the normalcy of my very existance.
whats normal anyway?
certainly it isnt normal to be a nineteen year old girl, and upon having her friend tell her how wonderful it was to be in the arms of someone she cared about the only response i can conjure up is "yeah that must be nice"

must.

being held.

that must feel good right?

one can only hope.

FINE

2004-12-03T01:45:00.000-05:00

i admit it
i'm lonely

ok?
now what do you want?

more stories?
i swear im working on them. elizabeth and ben will return as soon as i have time to rack my brain for a chapter that i can actually be proud of. it may be a while. writer's block is a bitch.

done with essays. 3 finals to go.

tis all for now.

2004-11-22T13:01:00.000-05:00

the story will continue...

right now, however, i am nose deep in school work, stress, overdue fines, stolen id cards and everything else that is making my life a living nightmare.

here's to better days coming.
hopefully.

rachel

keep it going...

2004-11-13T19:57:00.000-05:00

white. white everywhere. cold, wet, white. her nose buried itself in the newly fallen snow, a harsh opposite to the hot she felt rushing to her cheeks. she raised her head a couple of inches to inspect her surroundings. everything blurred. a mixture of the snow in her eyes and the fact that her glasses had slipped off her nose and skittered away to just beyond arm's reach. then it all went black...and slightly denim.

"um. are you ok? alive? something?" said the denim.

"mmph" was all she managed to get out of her frozen, snow covered lips.

she slowly moved an arm, miraculously still attatched, and wiped the snow from her face.

"fine. i'm fine. i just...hate montreal"

the denim laughed. a warm laugh.

oh god he's going to be cute.

he bent over, she rolled over and sat up, and he slipped his arms under hers and lifted her to her feet, scooping up her glasses in the process. they stood facing eachother and he slipped the glasses back onto her nose.

dammit.

"that was some fall. seriously. good show. i'd give it a 10, maybe 11"

spectacular. just spectacular.

"thanks. you know it felt like an 11 on the way in, so i'm glad you followed through with the score," she said dryly, shaking snow out of her hair.

he laughed.
stop laughing. leave me in my agony. im sure you have cute guy things to attend to.

"im ben"

fuck.

"elizabeth"

he extended a gloved hand. gingerly, she shook it with her mittened, snow-coated hand.

"are you from around here?"

yes and im also incredibly humiliated. go figure. now go away.

"mhm. well. i've lived here for a few years, i hail from less icy parts of the world"

"so it would seem"

with all her might, she couldnt hold back the grin that made its way onto her rosy-cheeked face. she shivered. he noticed.

"hey as a reward for such a classy spill, want to grab a coffee?"

"um. sure."

he dusted snow off of her shoulders and she finally got a clear glimpse of his face. blueish grey eyes, sullen, serious, and expressive. light brown hair fell into them and he flipped it back. his nose was straight, the end turned up slightly, it was a nice nose. his lips were shapely, slightly pouty and his cheekbones were high. he wore a black peacoat, from which a black hoodie peeked itself out of, a scarf was tied tightly around his neck...he was tall. she had to look up to see his face; and at 5'10", she didnt have to do that often. their eyes met and he smiled.

nice teeth too.

"so whereto?"

"umm how much time do you have?"

"i've got the rest of the day open"

"i say we go to cafe chaud on st denis, do you mind the walk?"

"as long as you arent afraid to take another slip"

"oh dont worry, if i do, youre coming down with me."

"fair enough."

they walked east, towards st denis. he smiled, she smiled back...

"Liz? Liz? We're here. what are you smiling about?"

surprised, she opened her eyes and quickly lifted her head from where it had been leaning against the bus window. her eyes met his and then they both turned and peered at the airport, looming in front of them.

"ok, well, lets go then"

they stood outside the terminal and faced eachother. he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. before he could let go, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her cheek into his. he held her and they stood in silence.

"well i guess we should go inside" he said, breaking the silence.

she nodded.

"liz?"

"yeah?"

"what were you thinking about in the bus?"

"oh. just the snow."

introductions.

2004-11-11T22:21:00.000-05:00

she peered over her coffee cup and smiled.

"so tell me why you decided to do this"

the sleeves of his sweatshirt fell over her hands.

"well," he said and sat down on the porch next to her, coffee in hand, "there are some times when you just know something is right, you know?"

she knew. she knew the second their hands touched for the first time and she felt as though she was flying and falling and laughing and crying and sighing and smiling that it was right. but this was different.

"i know. i know. it's just..." she sighed.

he smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"sometimes, you just know"

she rested her head on his shoulder.

"yeah."

they finished their coffee in a content silence and he proceeded to take both of the mugs into the kitchen. she watched him leaning over the sink through the open porch door.

"ben?"

"hmm?"

he turned to face her.

"what if knowing something is right isnt enough this time? what if things work out differently? what if you come back and i'm different and you're different and everything's weird and..."

by this time hed made his way back to the porch and he gently placed his three middle fingers over her lips. she gazed up at him, trying to hide the sadness that had welled up in her eyes.

"elizabeth. dont do this to yourself. this is what i need, you know just as well as i do."

she did. she just didnt want to bring herself to believe it...and he still hadnt told her why. she guessed it was another one of those things you're just supposed to know, and that hopefully shed eventually figure out.

"you know if i didnt have this deadline id go with you. you know it's where i want to be"

"i know"

of course he knew. but its one of those things you have to say. whether or not he knew it was beside the point. now, he knew.

"so, when is your flight?"

"tomorrow at 11. you taking me to the airport?"

"yup. we'll even have time for coffee."

"there's always time for coffee."

she smiled again as a tear made a daring escape from her eye.

"always."

irrationality takes over...

2004-11-08T19:27:00.000-05:00

lately, it seems like i've been spending a lot more time alone...i kind of enjoy it. walking, listening to music, a lot of thinking...and since my thoughts have just about taken over my life, i have had time to consider a lot of options for next year and as of now, everything irrational is winning my heart over.

long term

the rational:
-stay at mcgill
-obtain a BA in english literature
-get a well-paying part-time job
-continue to wallow in my lonliness while telling myself now is just not the time for love

the slightly less rational:
-transfer to the concordia school of journalism
-hopefully transfer english credits to concordia for a minor in lit
-possible additional minor in photography

the completely irrational:
-defer admission to concordia for a year/take a year off of mcgill
-travel...everywhere. by car, by plane, by bus...across the US, to England, Europe. Work small jobs along the way to pay for nights in hostels, sleep in cars, work in a teeny british pub for a month while renting out a teeny british flat. i've come to the realization that i am young and now is the time to do things i've always dreamt of doing and will regret not doing when i'm older holding my BA in english in one hand and my list of dreams that never came true in the other. i want to spend next year with someone as lost as i am, but for once, neither of us will mind; because the whole point of doing this in the first place is to be continually lost, but found...because we will find eachother and in turn, ourselves.

the near future

at the moment i want nothing more than to leave this place and clear my head. i just want to run away for a few days...i want to go where i can see the ocean, where i can look at the big, blue, endless mass that faces me and think about everything...and figure out everything i've just said and hope that my parents wont disown me. i want to drink tea on a front porch and watch the sun rise and for once, not continually have my mind flooded with thoughts of papers, finals, and assignments. i want to have no sense of time, to stay up late and wake up early and nap midday, without thoughts of class and what is going on without me. none of it would matter. nothing would matter. then i'd return home and everything would start mattering again...but it'd be alright. i'd have newfound drive to complete my tasks to the best of my ability. it's amazing what a few days of shameless rest can do...

as for now, i will return to Milton's Paradise Lost, Shakespeare's King Lear, and the papers and the journals and the dreams of all things irrational.

late night bedroom rock...

2004-11-07T23:45:00.000-05:00

my jaded music snob brain has started to allow fewer and fewer cd's to give me the chills i so long for in music; and as my interest in artists that brought me to the music i've so come to love wanes, i hope for new music to make me smile, to make me think, to match whatever i see on the streets as it plays through my headphones while i walk to wherever it is i'm going.

flashback:
august 2004, i'm spending a week at home with my family, mourning my dog's death, and trying to relax before school takes its toll on my already fragile soul. i'm a browsing the racks at border's, figuring out what to buy for the long train ride back to montreal. i settle on an old favorite that's on my computer : "a better version of me" - rainer maria, and a newbie, one i've never listened to, but have heard great things about and want to try. there's always a thrill element in purchasing a cd you've never listened to by a band you dont know all that well. before the internet, this meant a whole lot of cds, if not all of them, but with the influx of downloading programs, there is rarely a cd i buy that i havent heard at least part of. but, i digress. i decided to buy "you forgot it in people" by broken social scene....and then, as usual, i forget about it for a few months...

back to present day:
i'm chatting with a remarkable boy through email and in one of his emails he asks me to listen to "anthems for a seventeen year old girl" by broken social scene. i suddenly recall my last borders endeavor and break out the case to see if it's on my cd. and luckily it is. so, i pop it into the cd drive, as told, and place my hands on top of my speakers...and let it run through me. this amazing thing happens. i am filled with thoughts, nothing coherent, none of which last more than a few seconds before moving on to the next, but all of them are beautiful, filled with emotion, with colour. and i smile, alone in my room, hands on my computer speakers, dreaming of silly things and silly cities, and silly boys who have somehow managed to make their way into my life by means which i had shunned up until that point.

since that email a few weeks ago, whereupon answering the question posed, i gurgled out something incoherent, hopefully remotely conveying what i was feeling...and put "you forgot it in people" on my "at least once a day, everyday" playlist. again i am filled with the kinds of thoughts and feelings i'd thought i'd lost. my mind wanders when i listen to it, usually to someplace warm or someone warm...to happy things and no school work, warm blankets, warm thoughts...

i listen to it while i walk the busy streets and metrostations of montreal and i can't help but walk with a lighter step, half smiling, always drifting about in thoughts of things i that i cant pin as real or purely fantasy. of love. of laughter. of things i wonder if i'll ever be able to reach [like the top of your head]...

it's really quite remarkable how the only thing i need in life to wisk me away from everything that ails me is a brisk walk and a good cd.

park that car
drop that phone
sleep on the floor
dream about me

2004-11-03T13:54:00.000-05:00

today is a sad, sad day.

today, a part of me has died.

today, i am no longer american because the ideals that america used to stand for that made me proud to be so are obselete.

today, i have new fears that my friends will be drafted, more buildings will be destroyed, more innocent people will die, and more words will be mispronounced.

today, i am devastated to think that the america has further engaged itself in a reverse-evolution that seems to disregard the existance of the 1960s and the vietnam war.

today, all that my mom and dad fought for, protested for, watched their friends die for, has become an unimportant thing of the past.

today, john kerry did what george w bush should have done 4 years ago, and conceded to a man who never won an election in the first place.

tomorrow?
only time will tell.

counting sheep never worked for me...

2004-11-02T21:33:00.000-05:00

in the midst of my attempt to absorb both "King Lear" and "Paradise Lost," whilst trying to follow a life-changing presidential election, i have decided to update my faithful blog. oh blogger you never fail to allow me to spew out my bursts of creative genius, which as school progresses into finals season, will be fewer and farther between.

my sleeps as of lately have been anxious ones, many awakenings in cold sweats, shivers, worrying about missed classes and failed exams. in my half-asleep state, i lie in bed shivering and paranoid, wanting nothing more than to be warm and asleep. instead, i lie in bed for what feels like hours, but i can never be too sure, and finally, when a wave of sleep engulfs me, i am swept away into a vast ocean of worry and paranoia. (ooh rachel, nice analogy, you can definitely tell you were reading shakespeare not 10 minutes ago.) when morning finally rolls around, and my alarm finally sounds (this time for real, as opposed to the many times i awoke, thinking it was blaring its annoying signal for me to crawl out of bed), i am tired, my eyes have bags, my body feels unrested, and i head off to school, where more things to worry about greet me every day.

in this vicious cycle known as university life, i dont really get a break from much. just as i've finished one anxiety-ridden paper, another one is dropped onto my already lowered shoulders. this past weekend, for two days, i magically forgot (or more likely, blissfully ignored) the upcoming week. then on sunday, the grave realization of the test i have this week on "paradise lost" and "king lear" made its way into my brain. so not only was i racked with the usual anxiety, i also got to throw some guilt into the mix. now there's something odd, feeling guilty for putting your worries in a soundproof chamber for a mere 48 hours. and yet, i felt guilty. so what am i supposed to do? refrain from going out and having fun until christmas break rolls around? i think not. but to be honest, i dont know what's worse. spending weekends holed up in my bedroom, anxious, not sleeping, and yet getting little to nothing done, or going out and forgetting what plagues me for a while.

there is a delicate balance between taking care of all things academic and having way too much fun. i have yet to find it. but mark my words, when i do, i'll be sleeping a whole lot better.

the ups and downs of the eaton centre...

2004-10-22T14:32:00.000-04:00

"i am on a mission," i silently declared as i stepped into the eaton centre from McGill metro today after my daily dose of poetics. "i want a winter coat, and i want it now." oh, if only the the hypnotic powers of the mall would finally dawn on me. but they never do. it's like as soon as you go in, something comes over you, this urge to try on things you probably dont need, and to buy them purely because theyre on sale...and then once you leave, all is forgotten, and the spell is just as potent as always the next time you decide to voyage inside its evil walls, and youre stuck with 3 shirts you dont need, but bought because of the 3 for 30 deal they pushed you into taking advantage of...anyway, back to my winter coat...i entered the mall ready to journey into the depths of every store in search of tweed or houndstooth.

"old navy...they could have coats...or at least...sales..." see? there it is. the sale complex. oh it never leaves. i made it in and out of old navy in just under an hour...leaving with a denim jacket and a 4 dollar shirt. why? well here' s the reasoning i used in the mall: "i've wanted a denim jacket for so long, and theyre going to be out of season soon." in any other case, the fact that theyre going to be out of season soon would deter me from purchasing it..but like i said, the mall takes over, and there's nothing i can do. the shirt? well, it was 4 bucks...and it's..ok i guess..i can always sleep in it.

i scurried out of old navy without revisiting the blazer i'd seen on sale before. "better to just leave it, i've done enough damage..." and headed over the The Gap..which is always bad news. Just as i was about to make it out, victorious with the same amount in my bank account as when i'd gone in, i stumbled upon pj shorts on sale for 6.99. and who doesnt need pj shorts? i reasoned that the only other pair i own is old and ugly with a drawstring that never stays tied. i walked up to the counter, greeted by tired male gap employee, most likely relieved to see someone besides a middle-aged tennis mom or a 20-something country clubber.

we had a conversation as follows:

gap man - hi, how are you doing today?
me - not too bad, and yourself?
gm - i've seen better days
me - i feel ya there man. (i then proceed to fumble with my wallet)
gm - PLEASE, tell me you arent doing a return
me - haha, no no dont you worry...i dont buy enough here do do returns
gm - ah amazing. that'll be 8.04, big spender.
me -:: laughing:: hey now, i'm a university student, i have to budget
gm - oh yeah me too. definitely. i enjoy my discount here.
me - i'd imagine so, ::still giggling::
gm - well have a good day, happy hunting
me - thanks, take care
he smiled, truly smiled, nodded and proceeded to greet the next customer, a middle aged tennis mom without nearly as much warmth as he'd greeted me.

although less funny in typed words, it actually proved to be a high point of my day. maybe it's just the idea of striking up an enjoyable conversation with a perfect stranger, i'm not sure. but he was very amicable and i enjoyed our short chat...not enough to buy 80 dollar jeans just to strike up another chat though.

i then exited the Gap, down 8 dollars and 4 cents, and proceeded to meet up with vanessa and head home.

what conclusion can i come to? NEVER go to a mall to buy a winter coat. you'll only end up with a denim jacket, t-shirt, pj shorts, and a nice conversation to take home with you.

2004-10-19T20:59:00.000-04:00

she arrives at her conference earlier than expected and looks around at the slew of english majors eagerly awaiting the TA's arrival. She half-listens to the intelligent ramblings of the guy who definitely would have been high school's resident nerd but is now the centre of everyone's attention as he spews out something half-intelligent, half regurgitated about the Book of Job's relation to suffering as compared to "Good Country People." She wishes she'd thought of the idea earlier as she busily scribbled out an in-class essay on the same topic. The TA scurries up, arms full of papers, ungracefully unlocks the door, letting the eager english majors herd inside. She follows, last in line, and takes a seat on the side by the windows, letting the afternoon sunlight drift across her face. The lesson begins, "I've decided to push our discussion of the Samson Agonisties back in lieu of discussing good essay-writing skills."

"Great," she thinks, "I actually did the reading and we're replacing the lesson with ANOTHER essay writing technique session. That would be the third one this year." She remembers the funnel theory discussed the previous week in Poetics, and settles in for an hour of boredom, repeated ideas, and her incessantly runny nose.

"First things first," he says...she drifts out for a few minutes and returns at the completion of his previous phrase, "those things should only be done by journalists." The crowd snickers, at the prospect of journalists and at the TA's joke, which she had not heard the start of.

"Journalism," she thinks..."journalism...why aren't I going to school for journalism? why am i sitting here dwelling in successes of the past instead of learning how to make my own?"

The eager English majors snicker again, and her thoughts drift back into the classroom. "So what about this funnel theory? Take it, put it in a box, and mail it back to high school with a note on it saying 'it was a great ride, but it's now over.'" This time, she joins in the laughter. "he's funny," she thinks, "i'll give him that." at the same time the lesson of last weeks English 311 returns to her head. "try to structure your essays in the form of a funnel, broad to narrow then narrow to broad..." she wonders how her 200-level TA can be so much more intelligent than her 300-level professor and decides that if all profs were like her TA, she'd be more obliged to continue her education at her present school. Instead, she is surrounded by eager brown-nosers and professors who spend too much time looking for complexity rather than clarity. "How am i supposed to clarify my life when I'm not supposed to?" she wonders...staring admiringly at her TA, who is now speaking about personal pronouns and how they're ok. "yes," she thinks..."'I' is ok. 'I' am ok. 'I' will be ok..."

make me tea and mixtapes..

2004-10-16T21:24:00.000-04:00

i'm sitting at my kitchen table wearing the following: jeans (not involved in the point i'm trying to make), a t-shirt, a hoodie, a zip up over the hoodie, and my pink scarf wrapped snugly around my neck. this can mean one or both of the following: winter is upon us, so is my first (but surely not last) illness of the season.
i'm guessing both a and b are correct. we'll see if the slight scratch in my throat is gone by morning.

postcards. a means of romance long overlooked, tis time to change that.

would you write back?

i'm done with a lot of things

being flaky is one of them

obsessing is another

i will never, ever stop being overanalytical so there's really no point in trying anymore.

i have chills.

my throat hurts.

make me tea and mixtapes

make everything better

who am i talking to?

no one really.

but yet,

someone.

someone i dont know yet

but hope to

very soon

because i cant stand the idea of being alone much longer.

something tells me i dont belong here...

2004-10-13T16:03:00.000-04:00

"Rachel - though i can see that you are a competent reader of Donne, i find you essay timid and unenergetic. It is, to begin with, a little short, and there's no reason for it to be - you haven't even attempted to deal with metre. the main problem with this paper, though, is that you do not bring your observations to forceful conclusions. your paragraphs tend to end with truisms and blank statements -- you'll imply that something is food for further though, or that Donne has been very skillful, but in making these statements you relieve yourself of the burden of having to make a decisive and incisive conluding statement. try to work on this quality in your writing, and you'll find that your papers will be more successful."

constructive criticism?
i think not.

ten thousand punches to the face?
i think so.

so, what have i learned from my poetics professor? my writing is dull, lacking any sort of substance, nothing is thorough, i can't form a thesis statement [seen in other commentary that i didnt feel like copying over], and that the only way to improve my writing style is to TOTALLY change it.

or maybe you should just learn how to teach a class, professor. maybe that's the problem. maybe you should learn how to properly interact with students instead of giving them dirty looks when you hand back a paper ["i should have given this to my cat to grade, its about at her intellectual level" is the vibe i got.] and on top of everything else, perhaps you should be a bit more positive in your grading, not everyone is as stylistically perfect as you are, that's why we're in the class in the first place.

maybe i should just transfer. or will it be this all over again except instead of alousy poetics professor i have a lousy broadcast journalism professor? i think the difference is i'll be gaining skills necessary for my intended career instead of analyzing Donne's holy sonnets, which obviously i am incapable of doing at the level my professor expects me to.

bitter? yes. color me bitter.

ramblings...

2004-10-08T11:53:00.000-04:00

"I felt like a fraud. I felt like one of those people who suddenly shaved their head and said they'd always been punk."

sometimes i wonder if i'm a phony. yet, i'm one of the most sincere people i know. however, that doesnt mean that any of what i write actually makes sense...i'll leave it at that, with the risk of sounding dumb and babbling on aimlessly for 500 or more words...which is what i should be doing, but in terms of the Book of Job and "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson. Dont worry Shirl, I'll get back to you eventually...but now, it's time for my weekly allotment of creativity.

so?
beige, i'm through with you. so there.
i feel lighter. a certain influx of COLOR. yes, that must be it. farewell.
for now, it's just me, my roomates, and my cat. and hopefully i wont feel the need or desire to have anyone else. it's a nice feeling i think. not to have this void that shouldn't even be there but is kind of put there by the social circumstances i seem to put myself in every day of my life.

here are three recent conclusions i've come to that set me apart from a lot of girls i call my friends-
- first and foremost. i am not a flirt. i will NEVER be a flirt. i don't like flirting, it makes you seem dumb and girly and fake and i'm not about to belittle myself by paying way too much attention to a guy so that he'll notice me.
- second, i hate playing games. i don't play hard to get, i'm not a tease..and once again, i never will be. so those games of cat and mouse that everyone seems to be so fond of just dont pretain to me.
- third, i am too shy to ever do anything about anyone i have even the slightest potential of being with. therefore, i need a change of attitude or a guy who embodies number two on my list. no games. PLEASE no games.

so what does this all mean? well. i dont know. i guess it means that i need to figure myself out, realize that being as shy as i am isnt healthy, and actually do something about it.

until then, i have tea and fresh scones and death from above 1979. and that's all i really need right now.

renewed hope?

2004-10-02T17:02:00.000-04:00

possibly.

or maybe i'm just coming off the high that is a good show. a beige-less show. but rather a show filled with tight jeans and tighter black hoodies. oh hardcore, i should mock thee less, but i cant help but notice the irony of being a brunette and therefore a minority. [black flippy hair just isnt my style.]

but on the other hand. i love running shows more and more. i also love meeting some of my favorite bands and being reassurred of their non-assholeness, and therefore able to continue loving them.

that and having great talks with people who i thought would have hated me by now.
thanks shaun.

it's 5pm and i've only been awake for three hours. there is something very wrong with that. "the faerie queen" awaits. damn you spenser.

metric and death from above 1979. need i say more?

2004-09-30T14:47:00.000-04:00

top 5 things i loved about last nights show:

5. the anonymity
4. people actually don't think they're too cool to get into the music (ie move)
3. running into old friends
2. DEATH FROM ABOVE's last minute add to the show...oh man.
1. music. music. music. oh how i love music.

top 5 things i hated:

5. annoying dancing girls next to me. yes, getting into the show is awesome. no, beating, leaning on, and grabbing innocent bystanders is not.
4. expensive. too much nice merch.
3. my ears are ringing
2. everything i own smells like cigarette smoke.
1. i'm going to have to reiterate - annoying dancing girl. seriously, at least get in the middle of the crowd where everyone is going wild instead of being on the side. seriously.

such a terrible shade..

2004-09-28T16:56:00.000-04:00

oh, you. why must you torture me so? oh beige, oh dreadful, dreadful beige. do i even still like you? is it just your dwindling enigmatic presence? is this something more? i find myself nervous to cross paths with you. worrying about my every move, what i say, how i say it...and then our brief encounter ends. was it worth it? all this worrying over a "hello" and a "how are you" and a shitty president's choice light beer? no. no it wasn't. and yet, oh beige, i cannot get you out of my head. i tried this summer but somehow you managed to reintroduce yourself into my life as quickly as you left it.

oh histrionics. the dramatization of my nonexistant love life.

will it ever stop?

yes. i should put a stop to it, i know that. ["i like colours better anyway," i mumble to myself as i walk on sherbrooke street today] yes, i should either confront him already or forget about him already. the truth is, i am afraid. afraid of ending the dream, of waking up as alone as i was before and will be after. and then another one will come along and this will start all over again.

living in a dream is something i do all too well. my amelie ending. will it come?

all grown up...

2004-09-27T15:47:00.000-04:00

i feel a change in the wind. i've graduated to the blogger world. none of this live journal/xanga nonesense. No. This time, it's serious. This time, things will be different...opinions will abound, grammar will be proper, creative writing will have no bounds.

yes. a resolution. a new beginning. to blogging and to life.

here's to me and here's to growing up.

...or maybe not. growing up has proven to be somewhat of a difficult task. (rachel states the obvious once again). i wonder around this city, often aimlessly, thinking about who i am and who i want to be...and often who i want to be changes with every walk i take. i wonder to myself "what can i possibly see myself doing for the rest of my life?" and sometimes the answers come...but more often then not, they dont. often i just do what i do best, which is procrastinate, and save my thoughts on careers for another time, instead focusing on more important things, like music and coffee. and seeing as these two things encompass such a great part of my life, after many a walk, i have resolved to open a [successful] cafe/venue. until then though, i am left to decide if my current major in english literature will be at all beneficial to this future small business owner, or if in the unlikely event that my business fails, i want to be an english teacher...and frankly, i dont. so, in recent times, i have considered transferring universities to concordia where i could be a journalism major, still putting my two favourite things in the world to good use (drinking endless amounts of coffee while writing about music for music magazine x.)

sounds like a good plan to me.
for today at least.