'effin Exams...

Property of the Cord Newspaper, Wilfrid Laurier University; and the writer (me)


It’s the most wonderful time of the year... oh wait, is it really that wonderful? Spending copious amounts of time with my nose in books and staring blankly at notes from lecture notes, I’m wondering to myself: “what’s the POINT?” Well, really exams are supposed to demonstrate evidence of learning in a course, but I think they’re just demonstrative of memorization and concentration: two things I really am terrible at. As the daughter of a professor I’ve seen my dad pour over exams and wonder where he went wrong with his students-- the truth is, that maybe the students weren’t learning what he thought they were, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t learn at all. I’ve taken knowledge from courses completely irrelevant to the syllabus or academic calendar, yet ended up applying it over and over. I’ve learned that learning itself isn’t one-dimensional and we all learn in different combinations of ways, whether it is by listening, or visualising, or teaching it to others.
Exams aren’t exactly my preferred method of testing, as sitting in a room with tons of other people isn’t distracting enough, you have the usual coughs and sneezes, the latecomers, the early leavers, and the proctors who seem to plan on wearing their noisiest of footwear. The end result is a distracted student who can’t help but drift off into a world of daydreaming.

The problem here is that our minds simply aren’t adjusted anymore to this mode of intense knowledge-regurgitation; we are constantly stimulated by our phones, by our friends and especially by those LCD TVs that follow you everywhere on campus. Examinations aren’t any fun for someone with a legitimate concentration issue, and they sure aren’t fun for the rest of us-- strung-out on caffeine and buggy-eyed from lack of sleep-- we’re simply no longer in shape for this kind of mental exercise.

There are those who succeed at the examination process, and there are those who fail miserably. Some of these people lie at opposite ends of the grading spectrum, and it’s that big essay at the end of the course that keeps them from failing, rather than a formal exam. Formal exams are more often than not in my personal experience, NOT an accurate measure of knowledge learned in the course but an accurate measure of one’s ability to memorize. Being able to regurgitate or guess the right answer may be fine for passing an exam but it certainly does not affirm into knowledge gained.

So exams are, essentially, turning into an extremely inconvenient formality, lowering the averages of many first years and prolonging the November stress – such an unfair imposition upon students. I personally don’t see why-- if everyone learns in different ways-- can’t examinations and testing be conducted accordingly?

...Hardly seems fair

5 Shot americanos, best friends and packing

---Pretty much the three things that I've done today. I'm hyped up on great coffee, and good conversation. I hadn't talked to my friend in forever... Sometimes I wonder to myself if I made too many friends along the way, and am having troubles keeping up with everyone. To those who haven't seen me in awhile, I'm really sorry. Life's hectic. I make time for you if you make time for me.

That being said, today was crazy. Loonie run, library run, laundry, study, exam, coffee, home. Pack. Scream.

We're driving home tomorrow, so best bet is that there will be no posts for two weeks.... two more weeks.

Once I'm back I'll have more time to legitimately contribute to this ol' thang. I'm excited to see old friends, go to Tim Hortons and catch up on the Pembroke gossip, and eventually tire of the hell hole I left. I'll be homesick in a few days, betcha any money.

..Which I don't have. Anyways. This post was pointless. Rambling. Crazy rambler that I am.

Hyvaa yota you crazies. Sleep now!

A love letter to nobody

To whoever you are, wherever you may be.

I'm sorry. Sorry I never bothered to look outside the box. I am one of those kinds of people who is incredibly self-absorbed. I'll admit that. I'll also admit it is probably the source of my great sense of self-esteem and self-image.

I love you, by the way. I only care about people with every inch of my soul, so it's easily decided that I'll love you until...well, forever. I'm kind of pathetic like that but I really don't care. I stopped caring about my flaws. Well I don't care about them, that is until someone points them out.. So don't.

I'm not willing to make sacrifices. I'm stubborn. I'm a slob. and over-analytical to a really bad degree. But that can be good, sometimes, I hope, for your sake.

I have this notion of love in my head that probably just won't fit with real life. That's why I'm writing this letter to you. Stupid, I know. It's just my luck that I end up hung up on everyone I ever meet. Bad bad luck. So whoever you are, where ever you may be... come find me?


Soon?


Sincerely,
Yours truly,
the love of your life

My love/hate relationship with writing

So, yeah. It's that time of year again. This time, like I've said time and time before, I have six essays. I'm so sick and tired of flipping through books to form arguments that may or may not even make sense to me, only to get a great load of flack from a prof on how it isnt considering of post-structuralist bullshit.

I honestly don't care. I love writing, and I love my majors, but this is just crazy. Loading this much work onto a student who can barely keep her head on straight isn't really fair. I can't do it all! I can't do it all by the end of next week! Which is why, at this moment in time I'm writing on my blog. Ha. Ironic

Tonight we're all going to get sushi (loveee) with my roomies and Cy. Good times, and I'm looking forward to it. Sometime in the near future I know I'll see my family, and I know things are going to be okay.

It's a strange way to live life, without rules. But i'm loving it. I just hate the stress that maturity and responsibility entails, along with having a conscience. Sure, we could all be honest and perfect and just say how we feel...

But right now, I have no idea how that is.

Searching for moments

For some strange and awful reason, I've let myself get attached to people. Maybe I'm not as anti-social as I thought I pretended to be, but otherwise I let myself get away.

It felt so wrong to rely on another person, so wrong that I tried to run away from it. It kept following me, time and time again. And as I trace the lines on my skin I realize I was right to run. You were the wrong kind of person I'd let myself get caught up with.

And now I'm here again, searching for moments. 6 Essays to go, by the 16th my life will be over for awhile. The money situation is evening itself out (although I still don't know how I'm paying for next semester) but we'll get there.

Perhaps I've tried to fill some sort of lingering inner void in all the various ways that a newly honed young woman would. (and by newly honed, of course I mean somehow managed to drop 40+ pounds over the summer and out of it came a pretty awesomely toned body)

I feel ancient. I'm tired, and my legs are cold. Literally my body's heating system shuts off past 10pm, and then the migraines kick in. I've only been partially productive today. I've spent too much time thinking.

If thinking were an art, I think I have perfected it by now. Too much time lost to doing that... And now I'm here again, searching for moments. Watching One Week.

Singing silly love songs and wondering why I just subjected myself to yet another 'friends with benefits' situation. Love is such a complicated deal. It's not really even a deal, in my experience someone always loses. This time, it's not going to be me.

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them; they are the lifeboats for the darker times: the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes, or should have been all along: what would you do if you had only one week, or one day to life? What lifeboat would you hold onto, what secret would you tell, what band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee?

What book would you write?

The Capitalism of Christmas

This time of year can make any left-leaner piss themselves. It's hard to keep up with the expectations people ask of you: giving expensive gifts is the North American/Western idea of showing your love.

My way of showing love? Making the 6 hour trip north, cooking and cleaning up a storm and having the entire family over for dinner. Love is best shown physically in my opinion, as I've learned that some ideas just can't be expressed in words but in company and in hugs of those you care about.

It's hard to say how I feel about the holidays, as I love receiving gifts as I am a broke/poor student and have no way of paying for things I could really use (cardio gloves! so useful) and money certainly does make my world go round. Not, of course, that I want it to.

I find that every year on Christmas morning I feel this angsty sense of disappointment with the gifts I receive. Not that I expect useful gifts or things of practicality but it seems that IN COMPARISON others are getting progressively more and more for doing less and less; the poor are the ones who suffer the lack of 'love' at Christmastime.

I'd love to spend the holidays in Waterloo, if only my family would understand. It just isn't the same without my Dad around. It won't be the same without my dog Ben jumping through the snow and getting very excited to play in the wrapping paper. It was always the simple things that made me love Christmas. The way my cat loved to sleep under the Christmas tree, the way I myself used to get very excited when I got to decorate the house/tree and listen to Christmas tunes.

Its all changed now, it's become this capitalist frenzy: only 30 something days left of SHOPPING until Christmas?
How about only a little less than a month until I see most of my family, whom I have not seen since April? How about 6 essays, two presentations and two exams until I see my brother, my mother and my dear old grandmother?

It's not the same. It never will be, and it breaks my heart. Sure, I can fill that gaping hole with presents and food but I'll only end up coming back to Waterloo ten pounds heavier and a lot poorer. There's no solution to the Christmas blues but to spend it with the people who TRULY care about me, those people who know how to spend their money: not necessarily on gifts but on me and on each other in a way that shows truly that you love me. Paying for my bus ticket back would be a good start.

That being said...
All I want for Christmas is some sleep, to see my cat, and my friends. But obviously, family comes first.

Losing my mind

This is more of a journal entry than an opinion, but it may turn out differently than I intend. Right now, I'm sick to my stomach because I can't stop thinking about how I'm going to pay for my next meal, my next cellphone bill, my next tuition invoice.

I have an appointment on Friday to see if I can get a student line of credit. If all fails I'm going to have to a) appeal my OSAP amount, or b) drop out entirely.

It's terrifying to think all this time this moment was coming and I never thought I'd have to work with 6 courses, two clubs and a social life... but it did. I can't spend anything on anything and that is sickening to me. Laurier is such a shitty school to be poor at.

Of course, my heart and my head are saying two different things, and right now I'm pretty happy with that. Because, if my heart wasn't obsessing over silly crushes I would be up all night worrying about my money situation. There's not a hell of a lot I can do, I've drained both parents dry, and if I can't get a loan one of them is going to have to. Terrifying to think I'm pushing THEM into debt too... just for a degree that may mean nothing.

I just wish I could be a drifter, writing songs and articles for enough money to get by. I've learned this month how little a person can live off of (plus rent cellphone and cable bills). If it weren't for the kindness of family and friends I would not have made it this far: you know who you are.

So yeah, this did turn out like a journal. I'm not blaming anyone for my mistakes, I know how this went wrong, but I wouldn't change a thing. I just wish people would understand some of us will come out of this in a LOT of debt. We can't all have rich parents who can pay for our schooling.

That said. Love, love will tear us apart. I may be obsessing over crushes but I'm still hung up on the same person. Still.

Angsty Love: A (somehow) emotionally mature person's take on young love

Another night of watching MTV and various popular sitcoms with my roommates and I'm left wondering: why is it that today's teens are all uppity about love?

What is the big deal? Why profess your deepest emotion over and over again to a variety of people until its become so numb and nullified that it has no meaning anymore?
I've been trying to help one of my closest friends through a breakup with his girlfriend, and for the record she's being incredibly immature (breakup via text, aftermath via facebook) and doesn't seem to realize that the L word shouldn't be tossed around.

Call me old fashioned, maybe I can tell the difference between love and lust and deep friendship and appreciation. Maybe I'm just one of those people who holds a lot of stock in the loving emotion and won't just show those feelings to just anybody these days. But when it hits home, and when friends get hurt... I have something to say about it.

I think a lot of the reasons why people are so obsessed with the love thing is that we think that its somehow our #1 goal in life, to find that special lover and hold onto them for all eternity. But the opposite happens: we're social animals, we thrive in community settings; we hate being alone with the same person for any lengthy period of time. And I'm living proof-- of course I wouldn't mind 'settling down' eventually but I doubt I'll ever confine myself to loving one person. I'll love my friends, my partner, my parents, my siblings, but never just obsess over the same guy for the rest of my life like it's all I'm holding on to-- that would be stupid.

Because, when and I mean when that guy decides to move on (or maybe you will) you'll find yourself hopeless, without a personal identity and literally useless. A lot of times I see this after people break up because their entire lives and friend groups revolved around the relationship. What's worse is when the friends are forced to pick a side post-breakup. It's just a whole lot of nastiness waiting to happen.

So don't obsess. Sure, having that useless crushing feeling of hope and fear inside of you towards another person is fine. But don't whine and boast about it to everyone you know; it enforces that sense of emotional immaturity that is so often found in the 12-24 crowd. Yeah, I know that's a wide range but really it hasn't gotten old for some reason. That being said, I'm all for love of all kinds shapes and sizes, when love is pure and honest; it's a pretty special thing. Special meaning it only shows its face once in awhile, doesn't sprout out of hate or jealousy, and generally is a good thing....

I just don't see the point in reaffirming that whole in-itself for-itself dealio if you really don't need to. Why not have a little fun while you're young? Keep those feelings bottled up inside... you'll need them later.

First things First

Let me get this straight. I love the GRT. Without this essential service I would not have made it this far living on my own in Waterloo. For the most part their drivers are friendly and personable people and the buses tend to be respectably clean and operative. BUT in so many increasing cases, I'm finding myself stranded, unhappy and (freezing) cold.

Many instances I've missed the bus, only to realize that I was more than early enough to catch it. Many times I've waited an extra 8-10 minutes for a late bus, only to get to my destination late. Have I ever gotten there early? It's not something I can recall.

Not to forget the fact that there's a lot wrong with this service, but that I find myself scrambling to get to the stop 5-8 minutes early so that I will not miss it. The bus is rarely on time. Other issues I find myself turning over in my head is the sheer lack of bus service to certain parts of the city including the under-serviced high traffic zones.

I'd like to show the people in Waterloo Region, namely those who turned down the LRT option, how busy the iXpress is during rush times. How FILLED a 7C IS, ALL THE TIME.... how busy the 12, the 7, and especially the 9 are almost all the time. I have NEVER been able to sit down on a 9 at any point during the day. Ever.

How can we stop moving forward with other transit options when our current one is failing? The money won't likely go to GRT to add buses on the roads, this is not our best option. Clearly there needs to be a solution for the mainline so that essential budget can go to where it's needed: by adding buses to parts of the city without transit and to add buses to parts that need them.

As someone who regularly takes the bus (in the summer I chose not to simply to enjoy the weather) and lives in Northdale, I have little option to get to a stop other than taking a 7B/7E from Columbia which only comes every half hour on weekdays until 6pm.

Need I mention it doesn't run on weekends? If it weren't for the late night loop (which again, only runs every hour) I wouldn't have a way home some nights. And don't even MENTION the Sunday bus system... We need a consistent, efficient system here, no more of this bureaucratic crap:

I hate to think that a bunch of people who drive everywhere make the decision whether busing gets adequate funding and what routes get improvements.

Now do you see why I hate being late? It's never my fault. If only I had planned for the bus to be early, or late, or not come at all. If only I had planned to walk a few kilometres so I could be packed into an iXpress so I could get to the Charles Terminal 5 minutes quicker. Oh boy.

Pretentious Palindromes

After enough time passes, you'll remember some names, but not what happened
My heart just breaks, all over again
Because you're just so far, just so emotionally detached and lost all the same
You've only ever wanted, just someone to believe in you
after enough time passes, you'll seek her again, her name may change
but not what happens
My heart just shattered, when you stopped and said
I can't do this again, not to you
for her sake, because you're just so lost
just so pretentious and stale, breathing in cold air
whenever you look me in the eyes, i'm a bird in your hand
so take me as I am
Do You know what you are to me, don't make me say it, over and over again
just so precious, and wanted, and needed. I can't let you go
when i'm sick of all my bad choices, and I come back to you
I close my eyes and remember you

Risk

She deserves to be safe, protected, whole.
I'll find a way, to make her deserve me;
she's just confused, living in a mess, a lie
I'll find a way, to save her life
She can't talk, too anxious
I'll know what to say to take her higher
Leaving you was the best thing I ever did
and I'll find a way, to save her for life
I'll taste, taste the progress
of sweet agony, for you I will
You pretend I never wanted anyone else
Killer curves and ruby red lips
Hey, this heart's never felt more empty
hey, this ache's never gone away
So I gave you, everything
and fell for her instead
She can't talk, too nervous
just kiss, back to the darkness
I'll know what I've been looking for
when I'm lying next to it
You pretend it's me, I pretend it's her
Slip a laugh, you'll never scare me away
Embrace, and fall in love again
Torn between the devil and the little angel
these hands, can't come clean.

LRT in Waterloo Region

http://www.thecord.ca/articles/32941

Advice for your Farewell

Live, eat and breathe change.
Be that inspiration that drives more change
The best we can hope for is to die changing the world.
Do whatever you have to do.
Follow your heart, but never your eyes. Dumb is forever, but beauty dies.
You're the spark that ignited the biggest fire I've ever seen.
Fires burn but they always fade, and eventually all turn into ash.
Inspire people to be better at being themselves.
Whatever you do, do it well.
Just make sure you remember to call home, and never forget where you came from.
When you fall in love, don't forget why.
Close the curtains on hate, prejudice and regret.
Never fail at being yourself.
Never let anyone tell you how to do your job.
Your job is to live, and then to die.
We all grow and perfect, then we fade away as fast as we started.
Out there, someone's always going to be better than you. Live with it.
It never ceases to be true that the world will keep turning without you.
But for someone, in some moment, you'll be that person’s world.
You'll keep turning, and the world will keep following.
Even though you have a bad memory, I'm sure the important things stick.
Stick to just the important things, and you'll lose sight of what's true to your heart.
Only love and you'll forget what's rational, what's important.
Love is never rational.
Rationality is overrated, sometimes love is the only answer.
When it’s all over you’ll still have to clean up.
When it’s all cleaned up, you’ll forget what happened.
When you remember what happened, it’s too late to repair what’s broken.
When you go breaking things, the world starts to fall apart.
When the world falls apart, it’s all over.
The circle of life is incessant, neverending and ridiculous.
It doesn’t save time for heartbreak and love.
Just for a moment the mundane and pointlessness will go away, and you’ll feel safe.
There are worse things you can do to the people you love than kill them.

Laurier Girls

This story is one of the oldest around. Laurier Girls are the university format of the 'plastics' or the typical fake blonde bronzed amazons that all other girls love to hate. The quintessential Laurier girl has perfectly teased hair, often piled up into a 'sumo-bun', usually blonde and even more usual: fake.

The hair itself irritates me. Why spend more time than necessary making your hair look effortless, when bedhead can be easily achieved by simply getting out of bed. Why pay hundreds of dollars for a bottled blonde that imitates something the sun would do naturally on a boxed blonde or even a natural brunette?

Spending a ridiculous amount of money on appearance is nothing new to the average Laurier girl. The typical makeup is not your drugstore brand, nor is it dior. It's just expensive stuff, probably from Sephora. I'm not stereotyping, I'm just saying what I know.

When I started doing yoga, I became more familiar with lululemon athletica. Their yoga gear is by far well-made, and looks good on all shapes and sizes. The fact is, most Laurier girls sport the "wunder-under" pants (basically painted-on luon fabric leggings) which showcases their, ahem... 'assets'.

Those pants are 78-98 bucks, depending on which ones you get.

The Canada Goose down jacket, another wardrobe staple, is as cheap as 400 and as expensive as 1200 dollars depending on the length. Sure, these coats are warm: they're made for arctic excursions. But are they really necessary in -10 southern ontario winters? I barely wore a sweater last year, being a northerner I find these winters rather mild.

Of course we cannot forget about Uggs. Being incredibly "uggly" they serve little purpose other than to be trendy. Uggs were made for warming your feet after surfing in Australia. They're not made for Canadian winters. If they're warm, I'd be surprised. If they have good traction, I'd be even more surprised, as I see regularly women falling flat on their asses wearing those boots on ice.

Those boots are 200 a pair. Most LGs own several.

I just don't understand the purpose of spending 800, 900 dollars on an outfit that although you wear regularly (its pretty much a uniform here) serves no purpose other than to make you look ridiculous. Wearing yoga wear outside of the gym is stupid, wearing boots that make you fall is stupid, wearing a coat that makes you look like a marshmallow (and probably makes you sweat) is also stupid.

The LG persona is based on stupidity.
Although many of these girls are bright, intelligent and very enjoyable to be around, they play on this stupidity as a 'damsel in distress' kind of way. They think men like to show the female how superior they can be.

No wonder I'm still single. I would never downplay my intelligence in order to appear 'delicious' in the eyes of the opposite sex. Nor would you catch me dressed inappropriately for the weather. My lululemon does not leave the AC.

They're so identifiable by this stereotype, by this uniform. They pump thousands of dollars into these companies, and for what? other than lululemon, a respectable CANADIAN company, canada goose sure isn't cruelty free, and ever wonder what Uggs are made out of?
Google it. Few things these girls wear are representative of ethical awareness or even intelligence. I'll go that far.

As for me, if you dyed my hair blonde, strapped me up in that ridiculous clothing and made me seem half as smart as I was, I'd still stand out like a sore thumb. Always have, always will. And I'm proud of it.

Why I still read Cosmopolitan, and why I question that

So as I arrived home last night from Toronto, my monthly subscription of Cosmopolitan was stuffed into my screen door. Damp and curled into a baton, the magazine itself is way too expensive to be bought at the store which is why I purchased a 34.00 yearly subscription back in sophomore year. The cover, much the same every month, has a heavily photoshopped picture of some celebrity usually in a similar pose with a similar tan. This month is Jessica Alba, a very girl-next-door type of beautiful but in somewhat risque clothing. The month's theme, is exactly the same as another one this summer: "Guy sex confessions" and focuses on fashion for the fall. The magazine itself dictates what is sexy, beautiful etc when it has little or even NO authority to do so.

The first ten pages of Cosmo are all advertisements. Usually the pricier things, with the skinnier models, with more airbrushing, by the time you get to the table of contents you're already debating going out to buy new clothes to make you look slimmer, or in this case more emaciated. My favorite part of the magazine is where they give you makeup tips, but the makeup they usually use is ridiculously expensive. The only way to get the look is to buy into the Dior or Chanel brand, when the majority of girls who read this magazine (note the use of female jurisdiction) have enough disposable income to buy covergirl and maybe even Revlon cosmetics.

But yet, time after time when perusing the aisles of the Bay or Wal-Mart stores, I find that any and every item showcased in Cosmopolitan flies off the shelves, l especially if its affordable or promises to 'cure' common teen issues like acne or increase breast size.

I still read cosmopolitan for the odd bit of schadenfreude, or what they call the "confessions". It's good to know that someone somewhere out there has done the same stupid stuff I have, or even way worse. Cosmo's main focus now is sex and looking sexy. A popular page in the magazine dictates through photos of celebrity behaviour what is considered sexy and skanky. It's similar to a "what's hot, and what's not" page and leaves me wondering who decides whether a particular trait or instance is good or bad, and whether the fact that moral quandary plays ANY role in that choice.

I question my efforts to pick apart the magazine, because as a die-hard Women's Health subscriber and health-nut, I find cosmopolitan to be the tabloid of women's magazines. It offers little useful advice and more often than not incorrect information. Cosmo is really just a good bathroom reader, in that it is filled with garbage and useless fodder. Why would a teen ever care to know 101 ways to give oral sex when Pakistan is in dire need of relief aid and disease is about to exponentially grow? Why would anyone want to read such a piece of crap when the world is so full of problems?

That's exactly why they read it. The world is such a hard place in which to be an optimist, and reading crap like Cosmopolitan not only lets us feel 'better' about certain situations ("Well at least I'm not so-and-so) and focuses our attention on material wealth. It teaches us that happiness is only a great pair of shoes away, that we are mere objects for men to play with, and that our only satisfaction comes from being wanted, as an object. We're bombarded with incorrect representations of the female form, computerised and digitally enhanced versions of breasts, eyes, lips and teeth so many times that we lose touch with what is considered beautiful and even normal. Flaws are normal, cynicism is commonplace, people are fat after size 6. The world is an ugly place.

But yet, when it came time to renew my subscription I hesitated only for a moment. I put off calling them and going through this conversation. I procrastinated and paid the price, after seeing the automatic charge put onto my credit card for 40.00.

That could have bought me a new pair of shoes.

Green with a Cause

Just getting back from the Green Party of Canada's BGM now, and I swear I'll be dreaming about policy for days. Although I'm told there weren't as many motions and resolutions are there were before, I can safely say that the party itself is on a long road to somewhere. I don't even think anyone knows where that is, yet.

The Green Party itself has great ideas, great grassroots and a very intelligent and intellectual leader but most members themselves are lacking in all these things. Listening to the conversation between both young greens and green members alike left me wondering if the only way to be taken seriously in this room was to have a law degree, a title, or both. Anything the leader supported or opposed openly was voted as such, and most of the commentary consisted of snide and foul arguments. Questions of consistency, and a lot of arguments appealing to authority and tradition (other than constitutional traditions) were used as bait to arouse emotion rather than discussion out of the membership. Whenever a particular policy or motion was discussed, it was always in view of "how it could make us look" rather than if it was logical and in line with party values. Essentially, the party needs a separate body to monitor the making of policy and to supervise to see that it always falls in line with the values and vision of the Green Party.

Meeting some amazing people was just a side thing, but it made my entire weekend. I got to personally meet Jessica Holmes, a wonderful Canadian comedian and Green supporter, as well as Mike Schreiner, leader of the Green Party of Ontario. These are two people whom I admire greatly for their work and contribution to Canada and furthermore to the Green community.

I learned a lot, as well. The weekend wasn't just about screaming out motions and points of order, but about connecting with Young Greens (where I learned that I'm a lot more well off in terms of Campus Clubs than I thought), networking with lawyers and fellow Green supporters, as well as just hanging out with a lot of really genuine people. The convention may have only lasted three days, but I could have done it for a week. My Green leanings are now stronger than ever, and I believe that although our minds (as a party) are on getting Ms. May elected in Saanich-Gulf Islands, we are building our party into the future of Canadian politics. There's a rush to get elected and sponsor change... but I believe that the green movement is growing even in blue and red supporters (of course, orange as well) which is surprising, but awesome all the same.

As screamed at the CBC during our 'flash mob' by YG: Vote Green!

Hyperconnected: Oh Brave New World!

Ever sit in front of your computer, sometimes for hours at a time, constantly checking and re-checking e-mail and facebook? The notion of hyperconnectivity is anything but uncommon in today's social media and crackberry realm. Hyperconnectivity exists when we are constantly plugging ourselves into the web: whether it be through our smartphone, our twitter, facebook, linkedin, tumblr or blogspot account, or even just searching through e-mail or messenger. We're attaching ourselves to other people in more ways than just telephone these days, and the consequences of hyperconnectivity are numerous.

Think of the last time your house lost power. You probably found yourself clawing at the keys on your blackberry, updating your facebook status ("power's out! dammit!"), checking twitter to see who else has lost power, and maybe even logging on to BBM to talk to your friends while the internet router sits there, lifeless.

Blackberry thumb was the carpal tunnel of the 2000s, and now we have hyperconnectivity. Hyperrealities exist in that we are so in tune to the world around us, yet not at all. We lack in our knowledge of world news and issues yet we are fully aware of the small differences between the iPhone 3 and 4, and the 'bumper issue'. Our parents exist outside of this reality for the most part. They see twitter as a strange and useless thing, yet it is a mere copy of the metaphorical 'grapevine' or 'hotline' that they use as a community. The twitter community is simply exponentially larger, full of useless gossip as well as newsworthy material.

The close-mindedness of the hyperconnected generation will only grow with each new method of communication. We were astonished when suddenly our iPods turned into phones, and our keyboards became smaller and were able to do everything from the palm of our hand. The personal computer is becoming a necessity to fewer and fewer people, just as our predecessors and parents are becoming literate and able to fully navigate the internet. The google search engine has become our central processing unit: whenever we don't know something (and more often than not, are too lazy to remember something) we google it. We spend hours looking for images for profile pictures, imagines of our favorite hyperreal 'celebrities' and the perfect haircut, only to have it copied by a hairstylist we found through google. The old ways of looking for things and knowing information (interpersonal relations and learning through experience) are complicated and useless to this generation. It's so much easier to look through IMDB (internet movie database) for the actor of a film we saw years ago instead of bothering to remember it. It creates this problem that Socrates worried about, how writing everything down would eliminate the purpose of our memory, and that we'd be so lazy we would just refer to notes instead of our memory.

Hyperconnectivity has caused us to become these individuals with an incredible amount of power and purpose but little knowledge of how to actually use it. Politically speaking, we complain and complain about how much we hate our current leader, yet few bother to speak up about it, few bother to research party platform and even fewer bother to use their right to vote and change things in their favour. Whatever works in the interest of the greatest number of people has been the ideology for years and years, and a shift may be slowly occuring, but the hyperreality of being in your own world of accessible artificial intelligence is the obstacle.

In order for change to occur, the ideology of the people must be completely overthrown and altered. The change must seep into the minds of the people and produce new ideology. The only way for true social change to occur is to literally hyperconnect to social change. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Digg, etc., are all excellent marketing tools; the true possibilities of entering deep into the minds of the people has yet to be revealed. It's a lot like Inception: deep enough into our minds we can plant an idea, and watch it grow. Hyperconnectivity allows these ideas into our hyperrealities, or our 'own little worlds': our reality beyond the actual reality.

So you see, hyperconnectivity has the potential to change or destroy the world, because it allows all sorts of information to flow freely from our minds and (mostly) into our minds. This constant bombardment of information and stimulus only creates a desire for more stimulus, and in the end makes us incredibly numbed out to the need for social change. Our minds become mere hedonists, and lack the ability to grasp the true state of the world (floods, poverty ravaged countries, earthquakes) unless there is a social effect behind it: think of the last time you donated money to a country's relief efforts... why did you do it? Who or where did you learn about it from?

The answer, is almost always the same: inside your hyperreality you are in constant contact with all kinds of stimulus, and your responses are in accord with the dominant ideology. When social change occurs, it is in the interest of this ideology. It's always in the interest of keeping things the same.

Hyperconnectivity is in a feedback loop without any subsequent change. Our feedback is simply to ask for more meaningless information, and lack of change (or subtle changes).

This is supposed to anger you. This is supposed to make you put down your blackberry, your iPhone, log off facebook, twitter or whatever you're hooked up to, and get outside. Go for a run, a walk. See what's out there. Listen to your parents, watch the 6:00 news. See what's happened since you were a kid. You'll be terrified at the results.

I conclude this with a quote from Neil Postman: "What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions." In 1984, Orwell added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we fear will ruin us. Huxley feared that our desire will ruin us."

Simply Desire

Pictures flash before my eyes,
You have had your fill, your fill of me
I've thought about you 9/10 of today
I can't close my eyes without that little
heart between my ribs aching for more
just more of you, your voice
December baby, you are mine
In my memory, I can't think
I've done everything right
but yet I'll never be good enough
No matter what happens, I'll still have you in here
this little heart, between
lies and your own screwed up life
You make me realize that love is out there
and maybe I won't die alone
so things are good, good they are
I've loved and lost, but here you are
just leave already, so I can kiss the boys
and make them cry
dadadada, waltzing underneath the night sky
Maybe you shouldn't have left me

Stars and Lights

Now the lights are out, I can discover
this love, these bloodshot eyes
know it's never over.
So tell me it's not over
Sailor, take me away
and acoustic sounds like I'm caught
in a fray; you were on my left
always on my right, side of heart
you feel through, much too late
And all those plans I made,
fell to pieces. So what if you're gone
you're coming back
So what if I held myself back,
I never wanted to let go
My skin crawls, and the lights dim
dim and bother, dim and hit me
my head aches, cherishing this broken heart
put that last drink down
find a better place to start: the end
is now my beginning, i want to
fly above the soaring sea
and bring you back to me
Stars, Lights
and a sailor's beautiful night
I want to go on
cherishing this broken heart

Day 20

Soreness, swollen eyes shine in the light
It's dark outside, but I'm up tonight
I wonder if you realize how badly you broke me
Still, I seem to find the pieces
put me back together, to function again
But it's only ever for a little while, then
One look from you, I come undone

Cool breezes dance around my room, the sweetness
and stillness of the midnight air
the warmth lingers, and violin simmers away
It's never fair
When I love and lose, when I give it my all
and get tossed to the ground, you never meant
for this to happen, you never meant to hurt me
Why you started this hell, I'll never understand
But I know, there's some place in your heart
where I crawled into, fell asleep in your arms
I'll never understand why it had to be you

My hair, soft but brittle
falls around my face like a warm blanket
It changes like the seasons, my eyes
torn, with pain and regret
I have to break before I get better
My skin itches, my nerves are so wrought with
confusion, I'll never understand
When the only moment I don't think of you
is when I'm with you

Day 17

Don't care, don't touch
Don't feel free to rough me up
You'll never see, never try
never feel what it's like to live a lie
and you can do this over and over again
but all you'll ever be, is some guy

So go ahead, and jump off this bridge
you'll never be able to touch the sky
So keep on, protecting your case
But nobody is believing your lie

Didn't kiss, didn't fuck
So don't feel free to size me up
You'll never know, you'll never touch me again
so please, continue to be that friend
who loves and loves without ties
who cares, and stays without end, without
ordinary drama, keep on, I believed that lie

So go ahead, run off this cliff
you'll never see the start of the sky
So go on, kiss me this one last time
I'll never forget that regrettable night

Day 19

the battle has only begun,
but girl, my friend
You've already won
So give up
put down your grenades
put down your guns
You keep me up at night
dreaming of ways, to make you
understand my pain
Clouds are floating in the air
your war explodes everywhere
If you wanted love
why didn't you say so?
Twisted names, why are you running
this same old game
When all it does, is end
and causes you more pain
You keep shooting darts
and wearing those skirts
You're an assassin on a mission
If you wanted love
why don't you just say so?
They say you look just like a memory
but you don't feel like anything
but a loose cannon, with time to kill
baby baby bombshell, I don't care
if we sleep tonight
I just want to make it right
When all you do is end, and talk shit again
You're a fighter on a rampage
and you just want love

Day 16

We are all so different
I assume you've loved before
When you see me cry
I hope that you don't laugh
I hope that you don't cry
because in my heart, there's a love
there's a love that won't die
Note to self, single
single breath, heaving sigh
I guess we're not meant to be
Like a flutter, into the past
you're leaving, and everytime
I'm down on my knees
begging you to stay
So, just leave already
We all know, it's me. Just a single
kiss, bring me to life
and flutter, like angel wings
against the cold black sky
Piano chords, bring me my chorus
I guess we're not going to be
Leave, so I can twinge
in this summer dress, lady legs
stiff with grief, gone with death
Breathe.

All I've known, is that there is an end
and at that point
you'll become your dreams, your nightmares
then, you can begin again
Trust rebuilds like all broken brick walls
and when you awake from that sudden death
you'll say, is this my life now
honestly, you can't know
you just have to believe, in everything
that's how love finds you,
caught in the rain, in someone's arms
underneath snowflakes or sunkissed skies
It's all I've known, and it's everywhere
but is this my world, honestly
we'll send quick replies, and shortened goodbyes
waiting for a second time
but the plane takes off
and I'll get drunk, as shit
All my friends will sympathize, oh
When I wake from this dream
shake me, turn on the lights all around me
light the candles, and toss dust into the air
sniffles will turn to sneezes
I just wanted to please, like that night
finally I'll rest, rest forever maybe
Stopping myself from a kiss
I know, I know, I felt that way too
-- And everyday, it's changed since then.
-- In every way, I've changed since then.

Day 13-14-15...

I don't plan on writing for awhile. I want all this drama out of my life. Although there are few things more satisfying than hearing the loud clickety-clack of the keyboard in the fury of the night, I don't think it's healthy to continue to dwell on someone that can't give me what I need.

That goes for all of you. You, who couldn't give me a good, mutual friendship. You, who can't decide to love me as a friend or as his everything. You, who can't give me the time of day but has shown me what love feels like.

I just don't want to lie awake at night anymore, staring at the ceiling. I don't want to cry in the shower. I don't want to contemplate the possibilities, of all of you reconciling with me. I don't want my happiness to be based in other people's hands, either. So I'm taking the step and going to eliminate you from my life.

Not that we all won't be friends, we will. Just that you'll have to find your way back into my heart as though none of this ever happened. I won't fall for you unless you make me. So please don't.

I'll keep searching, for that person who can make me feel alive again. Until then, I'll be that zombie girl drinking gallons of coffee singing at the top of her lungs in the middle of the night... painting beautiful b/w art.

I love you all, but I really can't handle it anymore.

Day 12, part two

I really can't stand you

You parade yourself around like everyone is looking at you.

Well, damaged teenage queen, they're not

If they are, it's because they feel sorry for you

You're rather large, and your clothes do not do you justice

Strapping your breasts in like that only makes you look confined, like

a sumo wrestler in a life jacket

I'm falling off life support, now that I know what you really are

Damaged, damaged, damaged

You can't get out of bed in the morning, and it doesn't end there

You can't let me be better than you

When you knew all along I was

It started off so well, but here we are

And you're not talking to me, don't you see? It's your loss

Because you're still living the 'life' I left behind

and I'm better than that, yeah.

I really am better than that, drinking and eating junk

torturing your body

So, my friend, or I so thought you were until last week

When there's nothing left to burn

I hope you set yourself on fire

Day 11-12

I feel as though I lost a day, then I realize I did.

I'm in that half-awake state. It's laundry day and I had to wake up ridiculously early. Not that I mind a good sunrise, but the whole idea of getting out of bed shortly after getting into it really sucks. No amount of coffee is waking me. I'm on my second pot, and I've already showered and dressed. I'm on load 2 in the dryer, load three is waiting.

This morning is horrible. It seems as though the entire world saddens me. I've cried carelessly over countless things, from thinking about my Dad dying, to my dog dying, to me dying. Why do I even put myself through that kind of torture is beyond me.

I have a hot cup before me. The air conditioner is running steady as is the fan. It's very humid today and I simply cannot handle it. The nails on my left hand are longer than my right and are making a delightful clicking sound when I type.

The landlord is giving the house to his son, and the appraiser is coming on friday. I'm not looking forward to another early morning, but I gotta do what I gotta do. At least I have plenty of notice so I can keep the place decently clean until then.

I'm rambling, ridiculously enough after four cups of coffee I still could pop back into bed. Caffeine has little to no affect on me anymore.

I'll find out later if that's true.

Day 10, part two

Not exactly the way I pictured things would all end

Where do you go, when I leave?

Driving down, flying about

Does she make you happier than I did?

I'd come in, with the tide

with the leatherbound books and stripes

If you needed me, you know I'd be there

in a heartbeat

Not exactly the best way to say goodbye

I can't just let go like this

Heart lies fleeting, tears keep streaming

All I wanted was someone who loved me back

If you needed me, you know I'd come in

when life got busy all you wanted was somebody

and I wasn't there

So tell me, so I can finally see

why you're living a lie

Day 10, part one

Sinking sleeping darkness.
I'm not a film-star beauty, or a centrefold; I hope you don't sigh

I hope you just come back

Planes, trains and automobiles

nothing will take me to you; I waited for an hour

but finally gave up. I keep thinking I see you

I guess it's not meant to be

I was so sure it was you, but I wasn't meant to see

Sinking waking light

Is it you, or is it me?

I hope we fall, twirling back into daylight

Pianos, toes and fingertips touch

nothing will break me, I waited and cried

but finally, broke free

I guess we're not meant to see

I was so sure It was you, but I wasn't meant to be

Is it you, or me...

Day 9

Shh. I kinda miss you.

I hate to admit my insecurities, but you know all of them

You know the ins and outs to being me

Every inch of my body, or as it was that day

my smile, how my nose crinkles when I laugh

and I miss that knowing, that understanding face

But it hurts to know, that when you get back

I won't be the same

and neither will you; you'll be the stag

hardened by the winter, changed by love

will we let eachother in?

Donne-moi ton coeur, que je criais, mon amour

Je te n'obliera jamais.

You're Beautiful

I see you, from time to time. But then again, you're always there. Watching yourself in the mirror. Going faster, working harder. Pushing yourself to the limit. Nothing will ever been good enough. I watch you fade away from blue to grey, and I watch your eyes fade. I see the blood and happiness drain from you. You've become fake, false but flawless. Well, almost. In your eyes you are always a work in progress. You push for that extra kilometre, that extra 200 calories. You have no idea how much you've lost. In time, in inches. You have become the one thing you hated. Addicted.

But I give you a smile, a reassuring glance. You are beautiful, in every way. Your hair falls around your face like a halo. You can be anything you want to be, and you chose this? They all watch you workout, they all see the determination. You're ambitious. Why are you doing this?

You've become a slave to the design. You're soulless.

The music takes over. Blares in your ears, drowns out my voice in your head. All you see is the open road beyond that gym TV screen. For 30 minutes the world goes away. They stop bothering you, they stop calling you names. The silence is deafening. The music drives you on, keeps you pushing harder each day. The loss is the side-effect. The pain is a resistance. An obstacle to be overcome. Your life has become a marathon, and you're only in training. The hardest part has yet to come. Facing him, facing his big brown eyes for the last time.

You look in the mirror, and I stare back at you. In that second you realize who I am. I am you, crying, screaming for you to stop. But you won't, not until you've been drained so empty that the numbness sets back in. 1,2,3...breathe.

Day 8

you

looking up to me, lost out on love this time

the blue glow, from eyes or hair

down here, the humidity hangs high

tired souls and burnt out lights

turned on the tv, but nothing's on this time of night

Limits pressed, and somewhere out there

you're slipping from my grip, how can this be

your eyes a permanent memory embedded

I hope you remember, I hope you never forget

never fade away

I'm

just a memory now, falling back to sleep

rain beating against the windows of the greyhound bus

I know you're out there

your touch a distant clutch on my heart

falling out of reach

falling back to me

out of touch with the world

I fall back to sleep

Day 7

We are an empire, my dear

You're the last thing on my mind

Lets just pretend, and give me a second go

Rain falls.

Like little bullets of water, pummeling my hair, softening my skin

How can you love me, when I'm this far away

I guess, I can only hope that the rain never stops

washes away the thoughts of possibility

all I wanted to know;

and thunder, come silence my screams

like little cries out in the night, before it's too late

how can you save me, when I'm not in that light

Don't let me go, but remember me

when your hands are on her

you'll want to give me a second go

my dear, we just build

then we break

Don't let me go, you saw me falling first

give me a second go

Days 3 through 6

The past few days have been crazy. Shopping, more shopping, intermittent with fights and highs of fitting into smaller sizes. I never thought I'd be a 12 again, anytime soon.

I guess that we focus our lives about being this perfection we cannot achieve. It's such a useless plight we set up for ourselves, as well. Eat, shit, gain. Shit.

I guess I've let jealousy take a hold of me. I'm angry that you're not jealous of my new body, I'm jealous of Krista and the fact she's taken a hold on someone who has my heart, I'm jealous of Kate for standing in my way.

I'm the kind of person with ambition up the yingyang. I get what I want, because I fight for it. Jealousy has gotten in my way, and it's getting on my nerves. The only thing I have been fighting for that has come my way is the weight loss, and that is slow and surely coming, but key word being slow, there.

Day 6 ends with a slow walk and ice cream shop. I miss my guy friends. I'm sick of acting like a girl...

Day 2

The attack on my self-esteem is raging. You and everyone else just needs to stop. I'm egotistical but flawed just like everyone else. Just because I have confidence doesn't mean I'm an attention whore. I worked hard to get to this point and I'm going to keep on working hard. You can't stop me. I'm not obsessed, I'm determined.

But right now, I'm fading. I just want to crawl into a ball and express every bottled up emotion I could ever feel. I'm no longer numbed out, I'm angry, I'm sad.

I'm really pissed off at you, right now. I can't believe you'd say something like that. This is not a diary, but it's looking like one right now.

I hit the gym this AM so that Grand Bend wouldn't have to suffer tomorrow, and you saw that as part of an addiction. Just because I'm doing something you could never do, doesn't mean it's wrong.

Day 1

Times have changed, and I thought I'd be different. I became a woman too early, I think; it's not that I developed early, or even wanted to be feminine in that way early, but that I was forced into maturity at a young age. At the age of 8, I decided to become an adult. My parents always called me "thirteen going on thirty" even when I wasn't thirteen. I never wanted to be thirty, I just wanted to be treated with the respect I deserved. The respect that came with taking care of your brother, your mother, and even at times your father. When food was not on the table, I put it there. When cleaning and laundry was to be done, I did it. I complained, as to be sure a child would, but things got done. I lost an important part of my life, but I am forever thankful I know how to live as an adult better than most adults.

This unfortunate time of my life has spawned a strong attachment between me and my father, for he would do everything I couldn't do or didn't have the (reasonably so) time to do. As I was a budding scholar, set to go to McGill at the age of 12 or rather wanting to go there when the time came, I had a lot of work to do along with my house chores. I didn't have time for boys, and boys didn't want me. I was gangly, with oddly coloured hair for my skin tone. I didn't smile a lot because I spent most of my childhood depressed or missing teeth. I didn't know what happy was.

But now, now I am grown up, I have time to play. With blue hair, and blue eyes my adult life has given me the blessings of love and friendship as well as plentiful studies. While I may not have gone to McGill, Laurier has been a great substitution and I have chosen Boston to go to for law come 2013. I'm always one step ahead of my future, and I guess being particular (overtly perhaps) has its perks. I just haven't found them yet.

But after all is said and done, and all has been thought through over and over again, I'm sitting here, alone on a Friday night while the people I care about are off sleeping with people they care about. All is well and balanced, but yet I always feel as though something's missing in my life. I sing, I write, I paint and do all kinds of crazy things to my body and my hair but yet I feel as though I have yet to find that one thing that makes my heart beat fast. Well, faster than level 4 on the elliptical, three days a week.

I`ve been lost, for a while, you see. These days I`ve just had more time to think about it. After finally getting into a career path which is a lot more in line with what I want to do and love, I feel as though that door is closed and another one has opened. I'm not sure what I'd do if all fell through, except cry.

Day 1 is the start of a new life. A new beginning, where the old one left off. I've never tried to be something I'm not, and I'm not going to start. I'm just going to start realizing whats going wrong, and start fixing it. Maybe.

Empty Shells

Rolling, thunder and lightening; will you think of me?

Times I've told you, to sit down and shut up

Why I had to stay lonely, why I had to reason

Twinkling candles, and christmas lights in July

Was it just the season? Hot weather, I'm a hot mess

Sweat, and tanned fingertips press

but the rain won't wash you away,

the thoughts keep ringing out in the night

like chiggers, and crickets alike

Times I've tried, to forget that time

why I had to come down here

and turn you on, time and time again

Like the cold heart, that's been so dark

Since you've been long gone, and away

but this time, time won't heal all wounds

Cause I've got a hankering for something more

and you're the only one who gives it like you do

Times I've tried, I've melted like ice

why I had to call you over,

and close the door, lock it behind you

I'm an empty shell of a woman, grown cold by lust

and tired, and explicitly disturbed

can't get enough, and I'll find it anywhere

This feeling, I've been hiding...

dahh dee dahh.

Much too early

So it seems, that my neighbour (downstairs) has class every afternoon; this is why I have to do my laundry at 8am when I'd VERY much rather be sleeping. But that's alright. Tomorrow morning I only run 8k, no big deal.

This whole sleep exhaustion --sleeping in until noon thing-- has got to stop for me. Although I'm not even sleeping in all that much (mostly 8-10 hrs total) I feel so tired, and ridiculously enough I do know that oversleeping causes you to feel worse.

It's not even that, I think. It's the fact I fell asleep thinking about you, for once (in a while).

Or maybe it's that I just really don't like getting up this early.

Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll overcome it. In the meantime: Aghhhh

Zed's dead..... Baby.

Silence floods the coolness of my bedroom.

Your kisses, reign over the humidity

What will become of us; what will be

When the cello stops humming

and the birds cease to sing, softly

my heart will cease to beat.

Light tingles against my eyelids

burning, burning the candle's soft glow

showers me in a warmth of scent and light

What will motivate me when you're gone,

and the winter's cold arms surround me

capturing my heart with each snow

my heart will be lost in white

Hope forces me to wake

like a pain in my chest, an ache

I rise and I fall, come in to the shoreline

What will give my heart reason to go on

when the only thing that ever mattered

is miles away, and lost to another's charms

my eyes, blink away tears

they're all for you

my heart, lost forever

my love, gone with you.

Starlight

You were my Starlight; and I just wanted

to hold, you in my arms

That's all I ever really wanted

And I had it, every time

Questions unanswered, a bubble in my throat

I wanted to cry, it would never be enough.

Inside, a child

she lets herself be at ease,

you can't pretend like she can

Soon, you'll see how it ends

You were my galaxy; truth and beauty

in the light, shining down on me

in truth, in pure and honest eyes

I saw myself, looking back at you

My heart stopped.

I want you back.

Now.

But I can't have you, because you chose a work life

over this life.

I can't answer my own question

so I'll never ask it

I know you'll make someone happy

I just wanted it to be me.

Just a few chords, anything will do

something to get me through this night

piano, guitar

Starlight.

I'll believe, in you (Hope)

I feel as though when you leave a part of me will cease to be

As though a petal, falls from what once was a rose

I won't cry tears for you

I'll cry memories.

I'll believe in a story, a fantasy I conjured up in my head

of perfect love and harmony; a romance

A novel I may write, someday or somehow

I won't tell a soul how I feel

I'll love you forever, lost anyway

I'll learn theory, practise and hide in more books

upon your return I don't know who you'll be

I'll still remain here, in study and in pain

All moral, ethical behaviour we sought to blame

It's such a shame, that we couldn't continue

I'll turn elitist, for awhile as always happens

Become better than I once was, because of you

I'll lie awake in bed at night, stare at the ceiling bugs

and hope.

Hope is a cauldron I cannot stir

a lying being I cannot swindle

sing though, I must for my voice

is all I have and once had

was you, for hope is what brought me

together.

Sometimes alone is all you ever feel

Confusion, delusion.

Tonight is one night I really don't want to be alone.

Heartbroken, why is that you want more?

Would you just lie with me, forget the world

forget what happened, but no

You're with her, you're with the one thing

that could go wrong; the one thing that I wish you didn't have

and as I think, and query about your future

I wish I was a part of it.

I'm far too pathetic to ask, you'll never see me again

after this, and I will cease to remember

how your heartbeat felt against me;

and how your fingers intertwined with mine

let me feel, for one moment

safe.

Tonight, around the town

The snow flakes, fall into my hair

something in the way the moon hits your face

makes you look like a different person

it seems, that you just want to be

someone's everything

and maybe, I could just wait a little while longer

and nobody wants to be alone, but

maybe I could just make it happen, for me

as long as someday, someone doesn't take that away

always happens, always happens

Those moon beams, light reflects off my

blue, blue eyes;

and something in the way you looked tonight

makes you believe

and doesn't everyone believe, that once in awhile

they find that relief for their war, raging on inside

oh emptiness is my everything

slow dancing, in a burning room; just a few more chords

to make me go crazy, sway, sway

and the night will talk me to sleep.

The sunlight, beats down upon my little freckled nose

this is the storm before the calm

it's just that I've been working on; holding you like I want to

and maybe sometime I'll find out who that 'you' is supposed to be

you were the one I always dreamed of

how dare you say it's nothing to me; I'll make the most of it

because this nothingness,

makes me cry out in the night

moan your name as I sleep

and smile for no reason.

But, no matter of sun moon or snow can make me follow you.

Please tell me you're hurting

Cause I'm hurting too

You're not in this, not for me.

Leave, leave me alone

Paralysed, hypnotised like the silence of my heartbeat

pounding against my chest

Your words like little bells ringing in my ears

You're not in this, for you, aren't you.

You come here everyday, I see you here

and you run and run and run

until your heart gives way to breathless and tears

30 minutes, pass.

miles, and miles. Who cares about him now?

Leave me.

Leave me run.

My life, forever changed

I sit before a bottle of developer and powder bleach. I'm sick of looking in the mirror and seeing someone I dont know. It's not the best method of achieving perfection, but at this point I really don't care.

I knew from the moment I popped those pills my life would never be the same. Piercings, then the clothing changed, then the hair... I took a three year hiatus but I realized it wasn't who I was.

When I got my tattoos I felt on top of the world. I was finally identifiable. I was finally getting closer to being me.

I want to wake up to purple hair. I want to wake up to your face.

I know that I can only control so much in my life before it gets senseless.

So here goes all hell.

Point to prove: happy endings do not exist

I'm not sure how to begin after such an illustrious comment, but here goes: Happy endings, in that the two involved parties end up together and happy (success stories in short), do not exist for myself and furthermore do not exist in the reality that is my life. I have never come across a happy ending, and I doubt I'll ever get one of my own.

It's not that I settle for second best, it's that I compulsively over-analyse, drive people away with my weird unsettling antics and constant sarcasm, and generally hate the world. Until I find someone equally as hateful, but somehow learn to love these quirks and qualms that others seem to hate about me, I doubt my happy ending exists.

It's not either, that I would change myself for this supposed fate. I doubt, very highly in fact, that I would even want this ending if I were approached with it. A happy ending is the American dream, the 2 kids, car and house in the suburbs... isn't it?

My happy ending is not in the least alike that of most. I just want someone, even a friend; a constant companion who appreciates me for who I am and continues to grow with me as I age. I want modest possessions, and nothing more than I need or could consume. I want to live green, as green as possible without being a squatter in the woods. And most of all, I want that romance, that ridiculous romance I read about almost everyday.

Its apparently a lot to ask for: an intellectual equal (not that I'm that conceited about myself), someone who I can have heated (in a non-aggressive manner) arguments with, someone who simply shares my ideals, or at least enough of them not to cause major conflicts..

I'm not a complex person, I'm not the kind of girl who runs around trying to find a guy actively seeking the perfect man, or woman, or friend or animal... Although if the right cat were to fall into my hands I'm sure I'd love it forever.

My love for pets aside, I think that happy endings don't exist simply because of the lofty ideals I seem to hold to them. Happy endings seem to have to include ALL that you ever wish could happen, when simply overcoming adversity and ending up happy would be an ending that could fit that term. Even just being happy, on one's own without any complication could be constituted a "happy" ending, of course.

Maybe I'm too picky? Maybe not. I don't think I have some ridiculous idea of what I want out of my life, and I'm certainly not afraid to look for it, or to know when I've found it. I'll fight for it, tooth and nail; and I know that as 'lofty' as it may seem, all this will happen to me eventually.

Eventually better come, because my negativity and cynicism keep yammering on about how these ideals should be destroyed; love comes in many forms... yada yada yada.

But really? Does it? If I find that Catholic ditzy over-consuming arse-hole, would I even so much as take a second look? I have a predisposed hate for people who waste things, and Catholics (no offense) just seem to hate me for no reason, so I fight that fire with more gas.

So my point, will be proven, eventually.

That happy endings don't exist.

Of course, by being proven right, single and miserable is my fate; so I hope this one time I am wrong. :)

The irony of Waterloo Station

I'm currently reading a book called Waterloo Station by Emily Grayson. It's a novel, a short novel with a whole lotta romantic undertones (and overtones, and tones in general).

Minding the American colloquialisms, it's great. But this is no book review, you see. This is a quotation of all the ironies that exist between the book and my life. It's not even that, it's a ridiculous exaggeration of the similarities, between my heart and my head.

You see, I wanted to go to Oxford ever since I was little. Not simply because my elitism and my wanting to be the best; but I loved the old university feel and the prestige that came with having an oxford degree. The book's main characters are student and tutor at Oxford right before the second World War, and although their names are seemingly irrelevant; Maude and Stephen have a special place in my heart.

Maude begins the novel as an old woman telling the story behind the book of poetry her granddaughter found in a trunk. In her times at Oxford, she falls in love with her tutor;

and that's where the similarities begin...

I'm older than Maude, probably discerningly alternative in tastes, but we share a story unlike any other: we both fall in love with the unattainable, and even if it loves us, it never matters.

P.105

"There's nothing to say, " said Maude dully, "this isn't a death. It only feels like one. Nobody ahs died; I can't expect anyone's condolences. And he wasn't even my husband, Edith, that's the thing. He was nothing to me, just an idea, just a fantasy about what we would have together one day."

This is more disheartening than I remember. As I write it, it all becomes clear. I'm not just Maude, I'm that idea. I'm the somebody's nothing.

p.110
They'd sat in the pub that long-ago afternoon, on a weekend when they shouldn't have been thinking about anything but that weekend, and he'd urged her to think about the future. Be realistic: that's what he'd said, and Maude, foolishly, had assumed he was only talking about the war.

Who knew that She'd end up like me? cold, alone; And longing for something and someone that doesn't exist for us anymore. That Stephen is just like mine; he has grown hard and worn from the war, and my war has only just begun.

p.113

"It sounds to me like you were only wishing for a happy ending."

"I suppose I was," Maude said.

"But isn't that what we all want?" Edith asked.

Bad things happen to good people too, right? I'm so sick of waking up tired, not knowing where I am; this one won't be like you, neither will that one, or that one. And music meant something to someone who didn't have a girlfriend. fuck.

That was just what went through my mind as I read that. I don't know what to do. It's not like I'm not good enough, so I don't know who to blame.

The story goes on, and so does Maude. She moves on.

I put down the book, and look around.

Will I?

One more night (Young, Wild and Free)

I Love you, like the calm after the rain

like the want, that comes after the pain

To be young, wild and free

living with no regrets

All I want right now, is to show you

how right you'd be for me.

They say my life, and my love won't last

but all I love is everything about you

and everything about me

is why I ended up like this, so with

no regrets, how could I be wrong

to be young, wild and free

Try as you might, you can't

cause you're too weak

I'm that dark little heaven, back around the corner

ready to come and ruin it all

ruin it again, so drop to your knees

say please, baby please

no regrets, how could this feel so wrong

to be young, wild and free...

I'll never touch you again,

so I'll get what I can

We'll never be just friends,

one more night; that's all we can spend

like Stars, we'll sing along

and that we swore, it was a good one

that one night changed life as we know it

and the end,

should be a good one

oh, to be young

wild

and free.

Oh, Canada...

My home, my native land.

True love for beer, and all things hockey.

On a day that nobody works but you, my friend

Summer shows us its beauty, and you're not here

not here to understand

How really, after all was loved and lost

You're still here, in my heart, my friend

With matching hair and perfect hearts

We stand on guard for thee.

Oh, Canada... my heart's a rise with the sun

in two languages, english and franglais

The valley, called my home.

True, patriot love

We believe in different things

Liberalism, Cynicism,

whateveryouwantism.

But we know how to get along, and I feel alive

when I'm with you

Une Canadienne, errant, folle et miserable

Banni de mes foyers; dans un pays etranger

When I find you, I'll find myself

So come home to me,

et je vais t'addresser ces mots:

I love you, I wish I had never given up,

if only for a moment

I knew I had lost you

Oh, the best things I remember

are the times I felt happy

and the worst was when I knew I had lost you

Even when I felt alone

I knew you were somewhere, thinking of me

Et j'apporterai mon coeur, je t'aimais encore;

I miss you, so much.

Oh, Canada

Bring you back to me.

I died, so I could have you

I'm over it. Completely. I'm back to where I started

You'd never know I was so weird

Just that, you still have a part of my heart, like you always did

What you want, you are, you always were

I now, I know, that when the plans fall through

I'll know it's cause of you

Don't worry, cause you, you hold my heart

Don't let up, after all, you had me for a moment

In your arms, wonder fixed with delight

I can't believe you fight like this

I thought better of you

Without all the hunger, that keeps me climbing walls

to get to places that you'd be

Without a yawn, I end up floating away

Don't worry, cause i'm fine

don't let up, after all you never needed to be like this

it's all in your head

without a sigh, I'm off like the night

Momentum

I went to talk to Lindsey today about what has been going on and here is the resolve we reached:

It was nothing. It is nothing. Get over it.

I don't want to, but I've decided it's in my best interest to get over myself. To put this behind me.
If you love me, or want me, you'll make it known. I don't have to put myself through this anymore.

If only I could believe myself as I write this. A part of me is still conflicted, still upset over the fact I have to let you go, let you move on...

If you're happy, I'm happy. I just wish I could have made you as happy as she does.

I regret not acting sooner, I regret telling you how I felt (showing you?).

But I don't regret what happened.

that is all.

In the middle of the night, in the middle of the road

Tonight, the stars are out. Literally, the sky is finally open enough to see the beautiful night. It's not something I get to see down here very often. When I go home, I can see the northern lights. I turn up my music, trying to drown out that voice in my head that is so troubled and conflicted.

I try writing, try to spill out of me the tears and troubles I keep running over and over in my head. But nothing is working, tonight.

I try to listen to songs that once got me out of the saddest times, but nothing seems to dull the pain. All i hear is this wail, this whine, that won't make anything right. Why can't I just be happy? Move on? I really just want to let this go, and turn the page. But I laugh, and love what I lost.

I haven't had a real migraine in a while, but one is coming. I feel my eyes twinge and crinkle at the sides. The light is no longer a friend, the sound keeps pounding at my head. I fear the bugs that keep climbing in around my air conditioner. Why do the little things irk me so much when I am tired?

I don't even know what is bothering me anymore, or why it's bothering me so much. It's a weird feeling to hate a situation but not be able to know what exactly that situation is.

I think I'll feel better if we hung out soon. Either that or you tell me you love me. Hahahahah

Your choice.

It's only cause I thought it was you

Can I come to your house?

Just a few words of a song, repeated and with more affirmation in Amy Millan's voice than I've ever heard. More mourning, more sullen sorrow.

It's all I've known.

I just got home now, from grocery shopping. The screams of alarms down the street: fire, police..

I can smell burning sugar. I wonder where the fire is.

Truth is, I don't care. As long as it's not somewhere I care about.

Even when Mel's burned down it wasn't a big deal to me. I just wanted the drama to end.

Short sentences, shorter thoughts. I ran 3.7 miles today. I'm still living off of the high.

There's an odd kind of confidence I get when I run, it's though... I don't care what jiggles and wiggles, because I'm moving faster than you.

Rage against the machine is epic running music, so are Deftones. But that's aside from the point.

There's static in the air

It's giving me a headache. That, and the running high, the fact I ate an entire sandwich, a salad and some cucumber and I'm still hungry.

Bah.

This isnt a real entry.

Its just a wordy blurb from the heat. or heart. haven't decided yet.

For You.

Drip drip drop, down on my face, down to the floor

take one, of a two week time

I find myself staying here longer each day

and I swear that someday, I will see straight

and I'll find you, falling over again

Click, click click over your big brown eyes

staring back into mine

I can't get over this sullen sweet night

and I just want you to feel alright

Some pages pass, and back to you I come

all signs point back north

but the words mean more to me than you

they were written for you

Tap, tap tip my fingers on the keys, all too late

the blankets on the bed, tattered and smell weird

they smell of cold sweat and beer

I ache for the wintertime, those books that we've read

I'll read again

After enough time passes, you'll remember my name

and your heart will break all over again

So long, and so far.

thump, de dump thump, my heart won't stop pounding

I swear its only because of you

the sounds of the night keep on crying

and it's only because of you.

Rainy nights and G20 fights

Home.

It's a four letter word, but doesn't exist. I can't say it enough. I want to go home, home home.

I don't have one. This is my 'home' now. I've made it that way. It's my little dark cave in the corner of the house. Internet access, hot water, food, and an air conditioner. That's pretty much all I need to live. I type and type and words flow, but cash does not. I do not care for the poverty I'm experiencing, but it comes with being a student without a job.

But you already know that story. Today's dilemma is one of heart-wrenching angst. Yeah, I went there...

The G20 comes to an end now, and everyone is returning home, slowly. People I know have been mistreated by the police, and my godfather may have been arrested. He is a cameraman for CTV. The question that boggles my mind is this: "why the G20? they're not even paying attention..."

The leaders of the 20 largest superpowers were not concerned with the protests going on outside of the convention centre. In fact, they even mocked the mass riots occurring stating that "we hope the Toronto police can take a break after all this". Why protest at one of the most secure summits ever, when the likelihood of violence and anarchy is beyond affirmative?

Hope.

There's only one reason why anyone in their right mind would grab their torch and pitchfork (metaphorically speaking) and head to Toronto on that weekend. They have hope, in the failing system, the shameful government of Canada and around the world, that things would change. Maybe.

But they didn't, and now what? You're stuck in a detention centre, probably not going to be charged (based on what evidence?) and then you go back to your daily grind tomorrow.

Back to being a part of the big machine.

It goes to show that having a voice is one thing, knowing how to use it is another. As I sit here, popping tylenol and drinking hot tea as I fight off a bad bout of tonsillitis, I think I know where I stand. I wish I could have been there, but for what?

To save you, and to show you why I care.

Sleep is overrated.

I 'woke' up this morning at 7:50. I was worried I'd miss the first bus back home. Not that I wanted to leave so quickly, but I was tired and you were tired. Staying and sharing your bed was already a bit of an impertinence.

What a night it was, though. I'm glad nothing really happened, because I'm just sick of drama. We just hung out like two friends and did things that friends do. Drank beer, played Xbox and cruised Facebook all the while maintaining that boundary of guy vs. girl.

I was about to talk to you about the whole situation going on, but not enough to tell you where my heart lies. The truth is, I came because I was hoping you'd make me fall for you. Thank god now, that you didn't. I'm the worst.

I won't let up, now. Staying up to see the sun rise because there's no way I was going to walk home is just the ticket I needed. I needed last night like I need to go home, which is badly.

Home is such a distant memory now that this place is starting to feel that way.

Why is that a bad thing? Not exactly sure.

Why is this blog turning into a livejournal? No idea either. I need a place to get my thoughts out, that's all.

It's only my biggest fear: losing someone

Yes, by someone I mean you.

This whole "protesting" the G20 thing was a bad idea. I knew from the moment I got sick I wasn't going to go, it was the perfect excuse. I can't risk my career on a petty arrest made at a rally at the G20. Protesting there would only be efficient if the actual leaders were watching. And from the sounds of it, nobody but the families and friends of the protesters were.

Which brings me to this: I couldn't find you within the shot of the camera. When I heard the tear gas being thrown, and saw the gas masks being put on I was immediately scared. I couldn't be there to protect you. I couldn't be there to fight back. To show you that I would lie down on the ground to set you free.

I had hoped in my dream earlier that you'd call and try to get me to get out out of there. When you did, actually. I was mad. I didn't know how I was supposed to help you. I didn't know why your girlfriend texted me. Her greeting was cold, unfriendly.

She thought I was with you.

Scared silent, I lie here now. Writing is my only release as running in the humidity would probably kill me.. I get another text, and another. People are worried about you. They're asking me where you are. I feel like an authority on your life.

She should be in that position, not I.

When you get back I know where you'll run to. I'm just sad it's not me.

When all I needed, was the truth.

More than apathy, or empathy, maybe even sympathy

Like prefixes I'm standing, waiting for the clear

Everyone knows I'm in over my head

8:00 - you're on my mind

I try to disengage, myself from this whole reality

Say I agree with you, that it's all getting along

But I find another way to fall, and lose everything

as a sea becomes between us

I wish I knew I'd fallen in over my head

10:00 - you're on my mind

I attempt to close my eyes, but caffeine comfort

calls, and crying feels like a part of the past

becomes a part, maybe I won't act

She was yours all along; I won't come down

I love this torture, sweet remedy for happiness

Midnight - you're on my mind

and everyone knows she's on your mind

all the time, everyone knows I'm in over my head

Like a stranger I wish I could disengage

Myself from your reality, like a sympathy

that becomes a life that won't lead

All I wanted was to love, and be loved

But that was too much to ask for, from you

And I know why, and I feel ashamed to have even tried

Could have led you to believe I didn't

But that would have resulted in a lie, for my time

with you, I would have never saved your life

Fallen backwards, stuck in shock

I didn't know any better

After all, it was you who started this,

without consequence; I laid out a list

of why I can't do this, you trashed it

with your smiles and sweet caresses

Why I can't do this, why I can't do this

I couldn't hold back

and you left me to lie there, in the dark

as she begins to raise your heartbeat

back from the dead, drive until you lose the road

Wound me up, and threw me down

I'll admit to anything

Why I can live now, i'll never understand

I write for you everyday, and now I just pretend

that I never lost a friend, somewhere along in this

dizziness, wound me up, and lay me down

I'll take you for anything

Where were you,

when all I needed was the truth?

Lost along with time, all I needed was life

I'll write to you everyday, and now we can just pretend

that you never was a friend, and somewhere along in us

we wind up, and fall back down

Just take me, or take everything

When all I needed, was you.

Hobbies and Boys

There are few things that continuously separate me from reality: paint and daydreaming. The secret life of daydreams happens to not only be my life, but a song that I listen to while participating in this lucid activity. I close my eyes, sometimes not; I simply imagine a world where things always went my way, and I always won out in the end.

Of course, we know that this never happens in real life, that's why it's called daydreaming. It's that release of kept emotions that brings out the weirdest fantasy and the most poignant thought. Today's daydream consists of wondering if you're thinking of me when I'm thinking of you.

A strange thought to think, but when it's in my head it turns into a long, winding tale of love and complete impossible reality. Which is good, considering that otherwise I'd have no way of dealing with the possible when the impossible is out of reach.

Everyone keeps telling me they never thought I'd end up like this. Like what, is what I wonder. Like this? Falling over and over for the same guy? Isn't that my life story?

Hobbies take that sting away; that sting that occurs when you wake from the daydream, but the parts that make you giddy come back.... Painting is the one hobby I enjoy the most. It lets me realize a dream onto canvas without making it ridiculous

And nobody knows but me

Oppression and Suppression

Dawn rises and the G20 Summit in Toronto is underway as I open my eyes to a hot, humid bedroom and a large amount of new RSS links on my facebook page. Social media has led me to have hope in that my voice against the current government is being heard. That is, until I read that the police in Toronto were being granted special privileges to search anyone on sight without means or reason, and to arrest those who refused. This is not only a direct violation of our charter of rights and freedoms but that of almost every peace accord in the world. Searching unarmed (or possibly armed) protesters and passersby without means to is not only unlawful it is also unjust. I have the constitutional right to refuse search without warrant, but that seems to have been forgotten in light of oppressing whatever protests might be going on in the downtown core.

The government seems scared of what is coming today and this weekend: they seem to be so worried about the country speaking out against what has been going on these past few years (and currently as the gulf oil crisis continues and we as Canadians do nothing) and simply just want to showboat for the other major countries. We seem to have so much to offer as a country yet we close off most of the busiest city in Canada to construct an elaborate guise to cover up the true nature of Toronto: polluted, full of crime and albeit a very culturally diverse place to live; it is loaded with unemployment. Toronto has its own problems, the G20 theirs. Disguising the tumultuous city that is the big T Dot so that we seem better as a country is almost as bad as portraying Canadians as proud, raucous people who drink all the time and worship the beaver; but Oh, wait: that's what we did at the Olympics.

And even then, protesting was 'kept' to a minimum and voices were silenced. People who wanted to voice their concerns were hushed and told that they were being unpatriotic by embarassing their country during a time when all eyes were on Canada.

Unpatriotic. It's a word often used to undermine the activists of our country when the protests are 'inconvenient' to the government or the appearance of the country. But the truth is, that patriotism is exactly that: voicing our opinions and concerns when it is so duly NEEDED. And folks, it is duly needed now: the world's eyes are on Canada, and we have to stick up for ourselves: we cannot count on our shameful Prime Minister and government to do that.

As for myself, I think it's probably a really good thing I'm not at the G20. I'd be screaming, fighting, causing such a hell that the police would just HAVE to throw me in jail. Cause, you know, I'd be hurting the image of Canada. So instead I sit here, comfortably, and contribute back into a system that is failing, a country that is in hiding from speaking out; all the while hoping that my dear friends, who took up their right to protest whatever it is they feel needs changed, stay safe and come home without criminal records.

Beyond the finish line

I want to jump

but not to fall

I want to cry

but still stand tall

Feelings keep leaping out of me

but I stand still

Darkness, my old friend

until my heart stops beating

it will all feel new, the love I want

Is never the love I have,

and the love I got

is never quite enough love to me

I stand at the finish line

the crack of pavement seems close enough to touch

but I still have far to go

I'm done with this, I count to ten

But the room doesn't disappear,

blue eyes close, and repeat

I feel like I'm waiting for the end

I think the finish line's a good place I could start

take a deep breath

dive under, and steal back my heart

Its useless, to say

That I wanted you to stay

hold back your dreams, to make mine true

but that's never going to be enough

for me, or for you

Just come back to me, sometime

Just come back and be something to me

The finish line awaits.

Most of what I remember, makes me sure.

I'm miles from where you said you are. I don't know what to do anymore. I've stopped suppressing all feeling, and I'm scared. I wish you'd come over and tell me I'm your everything. I wish for a lot of things. Above all, I want to go home.

Home is that place in my mind where I think I'm the happiest. It's never true. Going back to Pembroke results in a lot of pain and drama, and then I can't wait to leave. Waterloo is the safe haven.

But it's not where you'll be.

The sky is getting darker, and the wind is cold. I don't know how to keep warm anymore. I've quit pretending I'm happy, and I miss you. I wish you'd call and tell me you miss me too. I wish for too many things. Above all, I want you here, now.

But it's not where you'll be.

I hope you're happy with her. Both of you, I hope you're happy. You broke my heart, without realizing what you did that day. I don't know how much longer I'll be in repair, and all the of the things I wish for, may just go.

Or maybe you'll hear my crying, from down the street, down the road; and come find me...

put me back together again. I'm flawed, but for a moment I felt beautiful.