Dear Internet

Can I borrow a feeling?

2006-06-28T18:54:00.000-04:00

Can you lend me a glove of love?
I have had the song 'Can I Borrow a Feeling?' sung by Milhouse's depressed father on the Simpsons stuck in my head for 2 days. I blame the girls at Go Fug Yourself.

The thing is singing at work is even less acceptable than sitting and reading blogs at work, and singing 'Can I Borrow A Feeling' is completely shameful. So I'm holding it in, and its hurting me. I will never be sophisticated, I simply have too many such demons haunting my being, also I laugh too much.

Notes to Brendan

2006-04-28T08:31:00.000-04:00

Beej can you make me a template for my blog? I don't have any design stuff at home and besides you're so good.

Also lets go to Toronto together someday and visit this metro station: "Wilson: ugliest station with humourously dated interior design (i.e. pictures of 70's era Ontario Place)," oh and Nana and Papa. This will have to be after my four month work-athon, which btw has a possibility of weekly 6 - 9 shifts at the reception job (in addition to the 65 hours!! HILARIOUS).

lazy person, crazy person and the 65 hour work week

2006-04-28T07:30:00.000-04:00

I keep mentioning my plan to work 7 days a week this summer to everyone I know, like my roommate who was returning home as I left for work this morning and desperately wanted to get to her bed, because I am waiting for someone to agree with me. No one yet has said, "doctor/slave hours, no weekends, good idea!" the closest was, "well its your choice." I'm still at a point where I think its funny.

Which reminds me of the quote of the day, "Am I crazy? Yeah I'm fuckin insane!!" - Man on Ste-Catherines St.

2006-04-22T09:27:00.000-04:00

I want a plot in a community garden real bad. I have wanted one for 3 years! I am not on the waiting list though, there seemed to be a lot more communities gardens near my Decarie and Little Burgundy appartments than there are near my Mile-End home. Go figure...

I am always full of big plans anyways.

Its all in the follow-through.

---

This organization sounds real cool. Unfortunately for me they are located in Toronto, but for the next three weeks I'm too young to benefit from their volunteer-hour art auction anyways.

from the mcgill classifieds (alternate title: fuck you)

2006-04-12T21:34:00.000-04:00

WANTED! live in maid and cook for the upcoming year!

Posted Saturday, April 8, 2006
Calling all illegal immigrants!!!!The chance of a lifetime awaits you in the heart of the McGill Ghetto! 2 lovely students are offering free room and board as well as an office in exchange for your cooking and light cleaning services. There will be plenty of free time for you to pursue other career opportunities as well. Contact us for interviews starting early next week!
Jina Cascienny

Re-occurring Things

2006-04-07T15:17:00.000-04:00

1. I often dream my teeth are falling out. I will feel the exact sensation I did when I wiggled them loose as a child. I will sometimes dream that I am not dreaming and that all my previous dreams are finally coming true and my teeth are in a pile in my hand.

2. I teach a (fake) ESL class at the YMCA residence and I keep panicking while planning what I will teach because I don't know any of the related words, it's then I realize I am trying to think of the words in French.

My friend Adam is now teaching the course with me, we are so unqualified, I'm sure we're running the best fake English class in town! To join the class you simply have to seek asylum in Canada, then live with 300 other people while you wait for temporary social assistance to kick in. If you like playing non-musical chairs you are in for a major treat.

vote me for vp of going places

2006-03-30T03:39:00.000-05:00

Vote Noah Stewart-Ornstein for VP Loyola, not because I am concerned or knowledgable about Concordia politics but because I have owed him diner for over a year, and I still have his dad's mini-disc player... oh and because people who like vegan mush should be able to get it for free at the campus of their choice. Journalism, Communications, and Theatre Students need that slop more than anyone. (Except me, I`m a picky eater).

I`m going to have to pack and move that mini-disk player because I am moving to hipsterville on Friday. All this typing on the internet sure is helping me pack.

I've had this blog for one year, in which time almost nothing has happened. I recommend reading this instead especially if you want to know about school-spirit keg party type people and don`t want to read that I Am Charlotte Simmons book written by a 60 year old man. I never did want to read that but I'm betting this girl writes better than that guy anyways, (plus I'm willing to guess that he makes his main character girl all slutty and sad about it, doesn't he?).

the land of waking up

2006-03-26T23:46:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning I paid for the internet to wake-me up. I used to make someone call me long distance to do it. You see, in my sleep I can not only hit snooze ... I can turn the alarm off, and I have unplugged it. This wake up call is sad, but not as sad as when the girl who sat next to me in highschool science offered to call my house to remind me to go to bed at night. I didn't even know her.

I work at 8 a.m. every Saturday and Sunday. I will never party on the weekend again. This lack of weekend drinking/outing is barely a noticable change, but I do wish I could be less shy and/or venture out alone on other days of the week to places that will not be really crowded and/or filled with friends. If I could do that I'd have gone to see the Magik Markers tonight, but I couldn't so I took a nap. The bassist from that band was in my class and I was curious ...

I think its from a link on their now missing website that I found this site which I read often for inexplicable reasons. I mean if I wrote about what I ate for lunch I could not possily make anyone care but this guy does. I also read this woman's site often, she is a really hip Mormon mother from New York. So you can see how I can relate.... being an unhip lapsed Catholic who couldn't even co-care for a cat and all.

update: I did not get a cat and then get rid of it. I am not an asshole or an idiot. I tried to care for the cat after my roommate abandoned it (to join the military), but it had no shots, had not been nutered, and started spraying everywhere. The vet wouldn't take care of it saying it was sick, her parents think it made their dog die, and when I told her all this she came home one weekend while I was at work and "got rid of the stinking animal". Then she said she was too emotionally distressed to have gotten rid of his stinking litter. Poor Indy!

Indy by the way, was named after India, which she wants to one day name her child. She is francophone and does not know that Indie music exists but I still felt such a loser to say his name.

The Land God Gave to Cain

2006-02-28T23:00:00.000-05:00

I was not meant to be in school, I'm totally fighting my destiny. Here is a quote that has nothing to do with the unresearchable paper I'm supposed to be writing:

“Religious and ethnic traditions may have divided the settlers of Canada, but there was one point on which there was universal agreement among them. The landscape and climate of the country they had chosen to call home was at best inhospitable and at worst life-threatening. 'The land God gave to Cain,' was the way Jacques Cartier described it when he landed on the north shore of the St.Lawrence in 1534.” Elder, Image and Identity

nostalgia

2006-02-25T17:35:00.000-05:00

My elderly aunt used to subscribe to a magazine called Reminiscence (or something similar), it was geared towards seniors and contained old photos of children, and articles and poems about the good old days. I wondered if a magazine about how much better life used to be wasn't a cruel product to sell to the still-living but I'm totally going to be buying that magazine when its filled with stories about sneaking out to concerts, archived MSN conversations and photos of disgusting poster covered bedrooms. Although if it hasn't gone under yet it'll probably still be filled with pictures of cute children and people waxing nostaligic about how angelic everyone used to be, because old people have bad/selective memories.

Anger is the way.

2006-02-17T19:02:00.000-05:00

Not being alive in the 70s, I missed out on a lot, like polyester clothing and 70s pop psychology. I've seen Annie Hall but I didn't even know books like How to Be Awake and Alive existed. Now that my parents are throwing away their unwanted literature I own a copy of this book (don't give up on being awake and alive guys, Kevin will move out oneday... and you'll find a new hobby to replace slaving after him). I will share the only exerpt I've read because I have three hours to kill. Its research for a comic I'm collaborating on.

from "Chapter 5 / I'm angry unto death"

"Very early in my practise, I was treating a woman who was very depressed. One day she came in and told me she was thinking of killing herself. As I listened to her, I found myself admiring her blouse and wondering who had ironed it so perfectly. I scolded myself for doing this -- 'How can you be so callous? This poor woman is talking about killing herself and you're wondering who ironed her blouse.'

At that moment my patient said, 'I did all my ironing yesterday.'

The experience was very frightening to me. But as I thought about it that evening, I realized what had gone through my mind: 'She is dressed perfectly. Her blouse is ironed exquisitely. How can she be getting ready to kill herself?'

The experience helped me to trust my own perceptions.

Okay. The woman with the pressed blouse wasn't really suicidal, and "The Little Match Girl" was putting on an act, and getting herself caught up in it. Then what was depression?"

Lets see, the authors go on to say the cure for depression is anger and tell a pretty story about getting a new patients old therapist to come in and demand help from her in dealing with his dreams in order to enrage her and cure her of her depression.

You can purchase a copy for 1 cent off amazon or if you like I'll send it to you. If you're actually depressed I don't think this is going to help.

Some DVD Psychology

2006-02-05T22:40:00.000-05:00

My new and temporary roommate brought some DVDs from her parents home and left them in a pile on the table incase I want to watch:

Défi Bleu (Blue Crush)
8 Mile
Dirty Dancing Havana Nights
Une Promenade Inoubliable
honey
Chicago
Les Désastreuses Adventures des Orphelins Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events)
Hostage
Extreme OPS
Mary Poppins
In Time
Harry Potter The Prisonnier D`Azkaban
I.Robot
The Butterfly Effect
Star Wars
À La Croisée des chemins (Crossroads)

She`s nice and last weekend we did a chocolate fondue.

Brendan please do tell me what you said in your class. I`ll tell you how drunk I got yesterday and how great my hangover talk with our father was and how terrible my breakfast. Actually thats it. Oh but I managed to deflect by explaining that you are a more likely alcoholic since you drink less.

My stomach hurts

2006-01-17T15:31:00.000-05:00

Kathleen's Junk Food and Exercise Blog wasn't really the plan I had in mind. But here's all I have to say:

My stomach hurts, I'm never eating chocolate again. And I sure as hell didn't join the downtown Y. That place is a dump and expensive. The song totally misled me. (Oh but I am volunteering at a different Y, when you talk to assylum speakers and they can't speak English, thats my fault. It turns out I barely understand the language myself.)

I have decided AIDSwolf is good music to exercise to. Am I alone with this one? Adam thinks the irregular beat could cause a heart attack.

Also in donut news don't try the Vanilla a la creme. It actually tastes like you are just dumping a bag of sugar down your mouth.

chocolate, procrastination

2005-12-10T23:39:00.000-05:00

It's almost midnight and I'm leaving my house to go buy a giant bag of chocolate. One bag has 1000 calories, so you can expect in no time I will be fat. Since I wish to continue eating piles of trans fat filled chocolate, I am joining the YMCA downtown. Yes, I already have a member ship at another gym but it was 100 dollars for almost two years, and you get what you pay for. Oh and the real reason I am joining the gym is because I run out of breath doing two (okay one) sets of stairs, and get weird energy bursts but for the most part am tired all time.

Soon this and all my other blog entries will be deleted as I am re-doing the whole thing with a new concept. Hah.

napping, singing, taking a course overload...

2005-10-05T19:47:00.000-04:00

I don't have the internet at home these days. It has not made me more productive, only a more creative procrastinator, if you consider napping creative. Right now, I am in the library at school doing everything but my geography essay. It might be cruel of me, but I hope at least some of the other people in here have no personal life, like me. I'm worried that for lack of purpose I'm going to become a corporate whore. Its possible, I think I could be great at PR.

I have joined a choir class at Dawson, we are going to have a 'December Season' concert. I'm not going to invite my friends, they are too judgemental. They are not actually judgemental at all but I am. Does anyone know a good Christmas song that is easy to sing? Maybe I'll invite everyone I know. My Dad would come if he lived closer. Oh and my Aunt Noreen! They'd probably love me more too.

I've been smashing plates to make a mosaic. Its going to be of the Desperate Housewives. Smashing plates is hard work though, they never break nicely. I can't find a red one to make the red-haired one's hair. Also, I have broken like three plates in a month. At this rate I will finish in time for when the show goes of the air. It could be mournful or celebratory. I don't know, I don't actually watch this show. I am in love with the concept though.

Bad Jokes About Blow Jobs

2005-07-04T00:46:00.000-04:00

Friday I locked myself out of my appartment on the way to work. My keys and bus pass were inside, so I paid for the metro and got to work only slighly late and slightly stressed. Maybe there was a lot of unconscious stress because on the way home to meet the locksmith I took the metro the wrong direction, and then I took a taxi....

Oh well it worked out okay. I pulled myself together (with a drink) and went to see Telefauna play at the Casa. They are really getting good. I love their new song.

Saturday I went for a walk along the Lachine canal and then I went to a party at my friend Lie's house (said LEEEAAAY). I wish her name was lie said lie, I'd be friends with her for just that reason. Nevermind the fact that she has lots of acrylic nail paint from Japan in hot green and pink and yellow. I made a disguisting mess all over my finger nails. Shit I should've taken a picture before it starting cracking off. Apparently 10 coats is too many, but I didn't want to talk to her friends who spoke English. ... Her Japanese friends though were awesome. I recognized one of them from my language school. But no the Anglo people were 'shooting the shit' with terribly cliched philosiphizing and then bad jokes about blow jobs.

I left early and rescued one exchange student by stealing her away.

Today I went to the market and bought cherries and Gorganzolo cheese and not much else. Then I went to Village des Valleurs and bought a size 24 dress. I might grow into it one day, or I might re-sew it to a 4. Lets see which comes first.

Flop Around

2005-04-17T04:44:00.000-04:00

OOOOOOoooooooooooooooowiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. I just feel like making a bunch of noises and its just as well to type a bunch of jibberish because I haven't got a voice at the moment. uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhcccccccccccccccccccccccc.

I have a cold, and a take home exam to do, and a random train of thoughts about jobs and dresses and coked out losers to follow.

My friend put his arm out the other day, and I realized he was pitying me, but I'm not sure what for - being sick or being mentally unpresent or standing alone in a crown pressing my nails into my lip.

Renting Movies Until Infitinity

2005-04-13T07:41:00.000-04:00

I'll be spending a lot of time around kids this summer at work, but right now I have very little contact with any. My friend's daughter is seven, looks maybe four, and is as smart in many ways as 40 and in most ways as 10. She played me some really adorable piano music, and sang as she played. But then, she got really tired, really fast, and yelled and cried during dinner. I don't know if my emotions could be that intense ever again. She started off explaining that she always loved her mother even when they fought and that she would always love her mother more than I could. By the end of dinner, she asked if we wanted her to cut off her hand because people keep holding it. She cried because her mother wanted her to eat dinner. Then, she said she was tired of seeing her mother's face. My most intense emotions lately happened watching Margret Cho's Revolution DVD. It was a pretty quick switch from laughing to crying.

I've become a person who cries. I never liked them, they always seemed to think the fact they cried made their pain more real. Now, I keep crying for t.v. shows and bad dreams, but I can't cry for any of the things that are actually hurting me.

I predict I will spend the rest of my life renting movies.

Some Girls Are Islands

2005-04-08T23:30:00.000-04:00

I thought I could avoid writing diary like accounts of my life in here, but less personal prose is for people with larger social circles to share their happenings with. Incidently the majority of bloggers are teenage girls. I still feel teenage until I find myself in either very teenage situations or very adult situations, like tonight at a lawyer coctail party with the Canadian Justice Minister.

I was at the lawyer coctail party because my more upwardly mobile roommate invited me. Well, truthfully I was there because my friend hurt my feelings a month ago, but thats another story. I realized I ought not write people off as quickly as I`m prone to do. Which is probably true, but terrible reasoning for accepting this particular invitation to go with my roommate, her boyfriend, our neighbour, his girlfriend, his friend with a girlfriend and a wandering eye and his single friend who came by my appartment drunk to hit on me in the middle of the night once, to a law firm cocktail party in the atrium of an art gallery. A french party too.

Outside on the sidewalk I insulted my neighbour's new girlfriend by congradulating her on her fake baby. Our neighbour had told us she was pregnant, then my roommate had told me it was just a practical joke. But apparently its not, and this girl, his girlfriend of three weeks who now refers to "their appartment" and "their car" is pretty sure she's pregnant, but won't do a doctors test here in Canada since it would "cost a lot of money" and she can wait until she returns to Beleruse. Ever so helpful I told her at the clinic it only costs $8. I should have just said congradulations, or nothing, but its not like I said, "liar! you're either not pregnant or stupid!" It was the death kiss though. She stopped speaking with me and spent the night glaring at me. I apologized to her boyfriend for the bad joke, and he said I should apologize to her, but she was in hearing distance and told him it was over she had told him already not to talk about that subject!

He's happy, she's whatever, not someone who I need to like me. But I did have to remind myself of this 10 times in an hour. I could have paid attention to the talk at the party but I was comprehending a good 10 percent of what was being said, feeling very out of place despite having managed to dress the part, while keeping my own look. The Justice Minister came over and introduced himself to my roommate, her boyfriend, and me, in french and not mentioning his position. I worried if I just said my name he would follow with a question in french and I might confuse, "are you enjoying the party?" with "are you a law student?" or "what is your opinion on the statute of human rights?" so I said both my name and the answer to the last question he asked. Its okay though, I may have seemed nervous or eager, and he may have thought I knew who he was. Besides, my roommate proceeded to ask him which school he was with (since that had been his question to us) so he politely informed us he'd finished school years ago and was now the Federal Justice Minister. We had a good laugh then he went away and my roommate had a painfully long laugh. He later gave a speach in french about the importance of listening to students and how justice is good and terrorism and killing children is bad, of course this is what I gathered from it.

Shortly thereafter I left the land of fake-smiling, proper dressing adulthood, and walked down Ste Catherines Street to the bookstore to buy some magazines and a sandwich. At the sandwich shop a hockey team of 40 year old Torontonians chatted me up, suprised I was alone and sympathetic to the half the story I told them. I knew better than to sit around a deli drinking with hockey players but they were a somewhat better fit than my earlier company, polite because they had children my age, and I left when they began insisting I drink.

I don't know why the feeling of floating is thought of as good. I wish I'd never watched Sex and the City so that when I walk around alone I wouldn't start thinking of narrative crap such as, "and then I realized sometimes you .....".

Dear Brendan

2005-04-03T05:59:00.000-04:00

I joined an internet cult again, so that I could reply to your posts. I mean to develop my written thoughts, yeah.