No one can help me now.

My mind forgets the most important things. I have an epiphany and forget it a moment later. I feel like I could live in a town for a million years and never know the streets, live in a house for my whole life and never really know it. I had a dream that my once closest friend died and I didn't even care. My roommate moved out in the first of December this year and a day later I had forgot she had ever lived there. I had forgot until two weeks later when another roommate asked "do you miss Emily?" . No, I don't, I've forgotten she exists.

Sometimes I feel like I forget my family. Forget how much they mean to me. After I've been gone for a month or so, they are voices on the other side of the line, words on a computer screen. I forget that my childhood has ever really exists when I'm living out my adulthood in the city. I'd forgotten the joys of summer in the country after 4 months in the city. Like it was another world in a story book.

I forget my telephone number, my post office box, which class room I'm in, the road to take, someone's name from only 6 months ago if not their existence all together. Days mesh together I have no scene of time and no understanding of anything beyond the obvious. University has made me feel as if the life and all capacity for independent thought has been sucked dry from my being.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm not living only repeating and imitating what others are doing. Mimicing the reactions others give and selling them as my own. Some times I wonder if I were left out in a snow bank would I even know to get out before I froze. With no sense of reality or time passing how would I know other then the logical reactions which I mimic from others.
My being confuses me. Whoever me is. My body and mind control themselves. Who I am is a mystery. Where do my thoughts come from? How does thinking work? Who is creating my life, certainly not 'me', no 'me' is a useless and abstract term.

Today I drank cold well water straight from a full , large, blue jug. It felt like I was entering a crystalline pool as I used to as a child. I drank nearly the whole jug in refreshed ecstasy, swallowing up the pool I longed to swim in but never will.

Only my writing can fulfill me.

One night stand Part 1

“I approach him under flashing lights in a dim atmosphere on a sparsely populated dance floor, under the influence of the false confidence of two double vodkas and limes and a pornstar, as well several predrinks. I come close to his body and put my hand on his chest, and lean in, my ear close to his as he bends down slightly straining to hear my words. I hadn't noticed how tall and large his body was until I was standing in front of it, him towering over me.

“Why are you dancing by yourself?” I ask loudly in a voice that is heard in only a whisper over the music playing in the club. I must repeat myself several times, even though I'm sure he gets the clue and with that we take step into the dirty trance of the meaningless pop top 10 practically played on repeat. And I am only relieved that he would take a girl like me.
I've had my eye on him from the moment I entered the club. Angered by the inevitable ditching by my friends I poured drinks down my throat as quickly as possible expecting the magical effects of spontaneous fun that so often occurs with the consumption of such an elixir.

I sat on a bench at the bar and watched him from afar wondering if he might have noticed me. When I finally found one of the girls I had come to the club with, a superficial friend, I turned her body in his direction and was rude enough to point behind his back. “That” I shouted in her ear “is the one I want”. She looked at me bewildered and made a weak attempt to deter me but her opinion meant nothing to me and I was determined.

I sat near to him on a bench that surrounded the dance floor as if I were an animal stalking it's prey. He was at the edge of the floor dancing in place, looking out over the room at the emptiness no doubt. He was extremely tall, and well built although lean, and he had a dark skin tone. He was dressed well, Nike sneakers, somewhat baggy jeans, a shirt that I don't recall, maybe a polo. He had short dark hair, and a face that I didn't pay much attention to.

When we danced he held my back and stepped to the beat, my shirt kept getting pulled up showing my leggings, and the skin on my back. I make a constant effort to pull it down, a task made difficult by the stony permanency of his arm fixed around me. He doesn't attempt to touch me more inanimately like most men at the club tend to. His large hands never wander to my breasts nor my ass, though mine find my way all over him. My eyes too look up at him innocently, full and brown with lust. I grind on him shamelessly, my front and back into his crotch and on his legs, while I move my hands over his chest, shoulders and down his back like I'm sanding down a sculpture.

My dancing is terribly sloppy because I have no rhythm and I apologize and blame it on the booze. He tells me it's ok.

“I need a drink” I eventually say after five or six songs and he takes me to the bar and orders me my third vodka and lime and a rum and coke for himself. We sit on the benches off to the side of the bar and I swing my legs over his lap and he holds me in his long, strong arms. His name is Duran and he is from the Bahamas, he an engineering student at a university here in the city. I tell him I like Jamaicans and he tells me his mother is and I'm satisfied.We talk briefly but mostly touch, and I kiss his large lips. He asks me what I'm doing tonight and I tell him I don't know and that I've lost my friends and he accepts this temporary answer. I tell him I may go home and he is a gentlemen and doesn't pressure me. He tells me he lives far away but has a key to a place he used to live that we could go to.

“Would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asks and I say yes even though I don't know where he has in mind. He take my hand in his and leads me away to a more secluded section of the bar where the slot machines are. We sit on stools across from each other and we kiss and and rub and I realize that he isn't great at making out. He's very closed off and it's hard to know if he's into any of it at all but I make enough effort for both of us. He's lucky enough to get a view of a wall on the other side of me, whilst I stare out at peering eyes of those people drinking in booths on the other side of a window that portions off the gambling space. Duran kisses my neck and touches me and the patrons wink and point. I am the girl that you so often see up against the wall in the shadows, tipsy, and on her worst behavior. Getting laid tonight. A fat, rundown man comes to gamble and looks at me slyly with a smile like he's into the whole situation and I tell Duran that we should go find his friend.

Once again on the dance floor we find his short, black friend, with bulgy eyes, horridly drunk dancing with a chubby white chick with dyed black hair. We smile and commence floor fucking, when who approaches but my 39 year old, thin, balding, married, smashed landlord who has seemed incredibly, and unacceptably into me all night. He gives me the same smile the gambling man had that “you-dirty-girl” look. It's the same look I get all night long when people see my little white girl self, with such a large black man leading me by the hand like a dog cluelessly around the city during the early morning hours, my dress riding up.

One night stand Part 2

It's 3:30am and the club is closing and I still don't know what I should do because I've never had a one night stand before. I have only ever fucked once. So we go to McDonalds and there I find each of the girls I went out with originally, my roommates and my drunk landlord once again. One of my roommates stumbles up to me in line and tells me she has just fucked a bouncer that she's been pursuing. She keeps repeating to me that she has no underwear on and I notice that her pants are on backwards. She's still incrediblely out of her head and her blond dried out hair is a mess. She sees Duran and finds my situation hilariously amusing. We've both already had such a surreal and fucked up night that she hugs me and tells me she loves me and we both smile. I feel happiness and friendship with her, something I don't often experience often. At this point I have completely sobered up, and stand in line by Duran waiting for his quarter pounder. We are wearing matching winter coats, black and puffy with fake fur trimmed hoods. His is long, down to his knees, and mine comes to my waist. I feel edgy and ghetto for wearing it. My landlord talks to Duran like he's my pimp or something. “She's my favorite house girl” he says “she's the nicest”, and he eyes me like a piece of meat and I feel like I'm being sold away,still somehow I feel no sadness, only joy at the feeling of reality and life pulsing through me. My landlord lays down a grand for he's five dollar meal like a rich asshole and tells Duran that he owns a beach in the Bahamas.

I eat a few of Duran's fries and I talk to my roommates and they all half-heatedly insist I come home with them but at this point I've already made up my mind.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask. “No but we can take a cab to Needs”. And it is decided. We take the cab, get the condoms, and then continue to Brunswick, a sketchy street on the north side. The cab driver won't take Duran's plastic and is fed up with us so he lets us off the hook and tells us to get the fuck out.

The house looks fine from the outside, it's a large building with many doors leading to different sections. He digs out his key and we enter, it is cold because there is no heat to be turned on. It is bare and there's a lot of garbage on the floor. We climb up the stairs and he gives me a tour. There's still working electricity, soap in the bathroom etc. We enter the bedroom and there are books scattered on the floor and empty dressers. I wonder who's they are because they were probably never his. Some of them look like paperback screen plays others old weight loss books. There is a large double bed that takes up a lot of the space. It is a flowered mattress with no sheet or covers which makes it feel cleaner, and a large wooden, loose and wobbly head board.
We don't talk. We stand on either side of the room and act purposely, removing our attire systematically. I finish first and lay on the bed wearing only my bra and panties ,shivering. He digs through his many coat and jean pockets but can't find his condoms. He's left them in the cab.
Duran walks to a convince store down the street in the rain, leaving me alone and naked in the deserted house. He returns frustrated, it's closed. He watches me shivering and I kept saying how cold I am. He calls another cab and before he leaves he kisses me all over my breasts. Then he returns to Needs, at this point it's probably around 5am. I look in the closet and find a sarong his ex has left there and spread the thin material over my body. I text a friend. It reads;
“Shit, I'm at some guy's abandoned house. He went to go get condoms”.

Even still the situation doesn't sink in and I don't regret anything I have done. I wonder what the possibility of some hobo who also has a key coming in is, but don't worry significantly. Then I wonder if this is the kind of places you hear about on tv. A place where people come to shoot up, hide out, and fuck since the landlord doesn't change the locks, and I feel grateful for getting to see one in my life time. I smile at the thought that I'm finally experience the city's underbelly. I hope the mattress doesn't have bed bugs but I don't concern myself with it.

When he returns he gets on me and starts sucking me, and he really stinks at it but I fake pleasure anyway. He doesn't finger me or stick his tongue up me and I wonder why. He doesn't ask me to give him oral, he says we don't have time. He gets up top of me, he's not full of passion or any excitement that is evident other then his hard-on. He drives into me and the sex is fine. Hard and rough, my legs around his waist, my head bumping against the wobbly headboard. I moan and talk dirty and he tells me to “shhh” , he doesn't want to disturb the neighbors and I feel kind of angry. I don't give a fuck about the neighbors. The man next store has a smokers cough and it sounds like “ho ho ho”. As Duran fucks me I make a joke about a santa who's let himself go and we laugh every time the man coughs.

We fuck twice. One after the other and I don't understand how he does it. When we're done he stays inside me for a bit, he's panting, tired and sweaty. I have my arms around him and stroke his head with my eyes closed and legs still wrapped around him. Now I'm the one saying “shh shh shhh” like I'm comforting a small child. He rolls over, his long legs dangling over the side of the bed his eyes closed, he's breathing hard. His sweat is all over me and even in the dark he glistens. He gets cleaned up and we both get dressed and don't talk. It's 6 am. He calls a cab, and we wait outside in the rain, and he sits down because he is too tired to stand. I feel wide awake. I only wish he would talk to me. He doesn't flatter me, he doesn't say anything about the sex and I wonder if I was bad or a disappointment. He just complains about the cab being late and how tired he is.

The cab takes me home and I get out coldly. I tell him to “have a good one” but I don't make eye contact.

I go into my roommate's room and nudge her awake. It's 6:30 am.
“I'm home” I say.
“I see you” she says.
And I go to my bedroom and sleep it off.

~End~

What my racist roommate is saying right now..

"I fucking hate foreigners! The moment a word comes out of their mouth that is in an accent I freak the fuck out! God. I'm not racist, but I just fucking hate asians who can't fucking speak the english language. Either learn the fucking english language right or go back to fucking Korea or where ever the fuck you come from!! I just can't fucking deal with it! If I can't understand what they are saying they can go the fuck back home to their country! They can't speak english, they're all "ching chong cha ying yong fayyy fo.."

The most ignorant, selfish, self-centred, RUDE, racist person I have EVER met. Everyday she degrades my hope that the world is making progress and that underneath all people are good people. Ahhh no wonder I'm getting so depressed living with this shit everyday. And the swearing! Agh! Just shoot me already. I'm done with the over dramatic, undeducated, ignorant, loser, shit show gossip! Sometimes I get so tired of it and disgusted that I have to hold a pillow over my head at night because I can't bare to hear their annoying talk a moment longer.

Pets.

If I had a terrior I would name him Kipper.
If I had a sheep I'd name her Darla.
If I had a small white bunny I'd name her Miffy.
If I had a large brown bunny I'd name him Benjamin.
If I had a duck I'd name her Jamima.
If I had a black cat I'd name it Felix.
If I had a viscious rooster I'd call it Token.
If I had a turtle I'd call him Moby.
If I had a pigeon I'd call it Terrance.

The Power of Inclusion. - I am a purple mushroom-

This is what I'm studying right now for sociology and it's funny because it's what my whole life right now is centering around. Loneliness and feeling disliked, or as an outsider.
Exclusion is one of the most painful and tiring things I know of. When I don't have friends I feel like I'm a failure. These feelings of exclusion from the university experience that has evolved for second year students at my school of spending nights at the campus pub and so on that I don't take part in. It's really hard.

And then there's the fact that I dont' fit in with my roommates (nor do I desire to). I don't like to invite people I like who are like me over here because I'm embarrassed by them being so annoying and superficial..
This one girl acts irritatingly impatient with me and talks to me like an idiot, sort of like I used to talk with my mom when I was like 16! Something I feel horrible about. Today for example I come into the kitchen after waking up at 2pm , very late, I say ''Guess what time I finally got to sleep last night!'' and she gives me this ugly, disgusted sneer, turns back to what she's doing and says '' I don't care''. JESUS CHRIST she is rude! Who does that!?!? And she does it all the time. Just the other day I asked her ''So what are you doing this weekend?'' and she says rudely studying, then I say ''Oh, what for?'' and she stops in mid step, looks at me, her top lip lifts, her eyes squint, her noise crinkles like she's repulsed, SNEERING AT ME! She says ''exams, DUH''. Oh I flipped lid! How am I supposed to know when you're exams are!!! FUCK.
The other girls are just utterly uninterested in everything I say and won't give me the respect to actually listen to what I'm saying. I could tell them I was going to kill myself and they would cut me off mid sentence with '' OMG look who just added me to Facebook!!! Ahhhh the fat fag from the club!! GAWD what a poor fucker! I only danced with him because I was smashed and felt BAD for him!! O-M-G what a CREEPER!''. *sigh*
And then there's the constant duologue that I get to hear everyday coming from them. Lines repeated like those out of a doll with limited phrases.
''Fuck my life''
''I feel like ass''
'' I feel like death''
'' I feel disgusting''
'' GOD, I'm sooo fat''
'' Let's go to McDonalds''



-End.

Another Day. Charolastra Manifesto.

I have fallen into a sea of despair. Last night I dreamed that I jumped into the sea and drowned again. It's becoming a reoccuring dream. I almost started crying in the grocery store last night. This is a farmilar feeling. Loneliness, coldness, numbness, anger, despair, vulnerability. Take me away from here. I would do any number of stupid things right now to feel wanted and loved. Including the correspondence I am currently maintaining.. I won't go into it.

I need to write my own Manifesto.
In the mean time here's the Charolastra Manifesto from Y Tu Mama Tambien.

1. There is no greater honor than being a Charolastra.

2. Do whatever you feel like.

3. Pop beats poetry.

4. Get high at least once a day.

5. You shall not screw another Charolastra’s girl.

6. Whoever likes Team America is a fag.

7. Whacking off rules.

8. Never marry a virgin.

9. Whoever roots for Team America… (it’s worth repeating)

10. Truth is cool, but unattainable.

11. The asshole who breaks any of the previous rules loses his title of “Charolastra.”

(from Y Tu Mama Tambien)

Static.

Me: So I just freaked out at my mom.
Her: Why?
Me: I told her I don't want to go to school any more.
Her: Oh. *resumes watching the OC*
Me: I told her I'm sick of the same thing over and over. I told her I want a crappier flat that I can create in. Put as many hole in the walls as I want (smoke as much weed in as I want).
Her: Oh.
Me: She told me I should talk to my old shrink..
Her: Oh.
*Silence*
Her: I went to American Eagle today.
Me: Oh.
Her: Guess how much I saved!
Me: ....
Her: 150 bucks!
Me: Oh.
....
I told her that there are so many things I want to do. So many things I could do. Go to Mexico. Go be a nanny in England. Study in Ghana. Spend the summer in Quebec at least. I just feel like I need to escape. You know?
Her: ..
So back to my story about American Eagle..
I bought this awesome zip up, 20 bucks, 20 percent off! Can you believe that? The Bec bought this sweet polo for half off for Chris's Christmas present.
Me: *sigh* Oh..
That's pretty awesome.
*walks away discouraged*
*this is why I can't stand it here*
*do you not see all taht you are missing?*
*does no one see that there is more then this?*
!?!?!??!??!?
Her: *resumes watching the OC.

I want to run away.

Sweet escape!
Real freedom.
Let my hair down, drop the weight, feel warm, soft and firm.
Create.
Write.
Smoke.
Drink.
Stop wearing bras, and wear flowing dresses with perky nipples walking on the beach.
Rest my head on someone's shoulder.
Sleep with whomever I please out of passion and not insecurity.
Connection. Friendship. Love.
I need to start being true to myself. I need to start letting go. Being young. Being real. Beign FREE. I need to run away!!!!!

I need old vintage pots to cook over fires with. Bags of rice and lentils.
A sturdy bag. My jeans. A summer dress. A pair of sandles and a pair of sneakers.
A hair brush, toothbrush, shampoo and soap.
A face cloth and towel.
A blanket.
Paint. Paper. Pen.
A lock.
A pipe.
A train ticket.
At least a 1000 dollars accomadation and emergence.

Run run run. Live live live.

And so the despair returns..

It's been a tough month. My skin has dried out with the end of my happiness, perhaps it is time I shed my skin.

Options and patience too run dry so quickly that I feel like the only thing to do is run away. Runaway and live an alternate reality. Starve of the fat and live gobbling hungrily at scraps and painting in an empty room with a covered floor.

Anything to escape the padded walls, silent and irritating as I run against them only to bounce off without sound, without satisfaction. Scrambling up the grip less pillows, like a cat declawed, unable to bring on even the slight satisfaction of ripping them open violently to release a flow of unruly feathers and leave gaping gashes forever in the fabric. But the walls are indestructible here.

The words spoken in the halls mean nothing. Nothingness is what I feel. And when the voices are heard they echo momentarily and then are quickly fade away as I pass. Absorbed by the speed of day to day and the cushioned walls.

The doors in the room are slammed closed by my economics professor like heavy, automatic locking doors in a prison. Once released at two thirty from my misery I walk home in a trace of confusion an dread. I return home weary with feelings of worthlessness and stupidity. Again desperate to climb the walls, rip them apart, rip myself apart.

I fall down exhausted on a bed without a sheet in a room too filled with meaningless things. The floor covered with papers, dirty clothes, and dishes, the chaos that is my life.

Everything reminds me of my failure. My emptiness. So lost and so hopelessly numb.

Things I Learnt about Sudan Today.

So today I met a few new Sudanese friends and they told me all kinds of interesting history and information about Sudan and this is what I remember to share:

Sudan gained it's Independence in 1952, before it was colonized by the British (surprise, surprise) who brought the religion of Christianity. The civil war has been ravaging the country for 60 years 1955-present. The civil war is a result of clashing regions of Sudan, the north which is predominantly Muslim and the south which is populated with Christians. The Muslim influence comes from Egypt which ruled for Britain due to their close location to Sudan, many of the soldiers etc being Egyptian at the time and then ruling alone after Britain left. Many Egyptian men came into Sudan during their time of rule and chose African wives whom they had children with. As a result the Northern part of Sudan now has many Muslim, African/Egyptian mixed children. In my understanding their Arab status is considered Superior and they consider themselves more Arab then African. Another reason Egypt wants to keep such a strong hold on Sudan is because of the Nile River which runs through Sudan. The Egyptians want to control how the Sudanese use this water because they have so much invested in it for irrigation. Sudan, and a few other countries (Uganda etc) signed a contract with Egypt in 1933 that said that they could use the water but not build dams etc and if their were floods Egypt would compensate the people. Except the countries are regularly flooded and never compensated.

Because of the north and south's total difference in belief systems it causes great conflict. For example if Christians go into he capital they can be arrested by Muslims authorities who have made drinking illegal due to their religious beliefs.

In 2011 a referendum will be held and the Sudanese people will be able to vote for whether or not they want the country separated. The men I was talking to desperately want the boundary to be draw so that it would be safe for them to go back to their homes. They were driven out of their homes because of the civil war and into Kakuma for four years! If a boundary were to be drawn then the Sudanese people would be somewhat more protected and secure on the North and South.

They also spoke to me about naming. The men in Sudan have names starting with "Me" that is a male beginning, where as female names start with 'N' or a male's name with the M dropped. The second part of the name means something. Melaku for example means 'angel', and Melajab means something like a very valuable bull (the colors of a very valuable bull- white and black), so when he was born his mothers dowry probably included a bull. And Malaju means foreigner, so he was probably born outside of his community.

Melaju and Melajab were telling me about wives and dowry in their country. Melajab told me that dowry is a precious gift appreciating the value of the woman, talking to me almost lovingly touching my leg and smiling gently looking into my eyes as if to hypnotize me or melt me like butter with his talk of my womanly value. Melaju on the other hand spoke strongly about his belief in progress beyond dowry. Because dowry causes a lot of problems in a relationship. Men often feel that they have the right to beat their wives, and women feel in debt to their husbands. If the couple feel inclined to divorce it is very rare and there is then the dilemma of what to do with the dowry. Divorce is also very rare among the people of Melaju's small traditional community. If a husband and wife want to divorce the community gets involved, and disapproving, try to persuade them to resolve their differences and stay together. Also if men and women separate it is a lot harder for them to get second husband/wives. If the two must go to court witnesses (community leaders) come forward and present all information about the dowry etc. Everything is mental, there are no documents. Therefore it is very rare to divorce!

End.

My Perfect Day.

Today was my kind of day! I got together with a bunch of activists from DalHousie to go to an annual fundraiser at Grand Pre Vineyard, where we students pick grapes and get paid by the hour which we donate to bringing refugees to Canada. I knew two people, and I met so many more!
It was a beautiful crisp fall day, and picking wasn't overly strenuous. It was nice just to be outdoors again and experience something new. The Vineyard was in the Annopolis Valley, which I had never been to and was so beautiful! We even saw a bald eagle!














Then after picking and lunch was finished we all got a tour of the winery and wine tasted! And even though I'm not a huge fan of wine I didn't find it too bad. I really liked the white dessert wine :). Then after that we all went to a lookout to see all of the valley which was gorgeous!! And then we went to the local farmers market and bought the famous, delicious valley apples and maple sugar candy *drool*.





























Then we went to our friends country home on an apple orchard and at a big lovely spaghetti supper! After dinner I had an amazing conversation with my new Sudanese friends, all WUSC sponsored students. I learnt so much! I learnt all about the conflicts in Sudan and the history of it. Which I will write separately from this entry because I learnt sooo much from these men! They are really, really great guys, and I feel like I gained such an abundance of knowledge about their culture and my misconceptions. For example in Ethopia if you have maintained an A average you are eligible for a totally free post secondary education, with free meals etc, which I did not know. Also the Kakuma refugee camp has an actual, established, bar on it's grounds, which camp residents can work at and go to. Something most people wouldn't suspect. I think it's so easy to see refugees as poor, uneducated, behind the times, people like pictures you see in World Vision commercials, more like objects then people. Not like us. You know? So it's so interesting to talk with them and straighten out your outsider mind set.














So it was basically 12 hours of fun. It was so nice to get out and have good clean fun again. :)

Inspirational Day Part 2

So after I returned from town I ate supper and took off again to buy some much needed food! As I was heading to the backery a few streets down, on a now chilly evening, I met a homeless man huddled up by a fence on the street. I remembered what my sociology professor has told us about the homeless in last weeks class- people usually can't look a homeless person in the eyes, because it causes shame and it hurts. It forces you to face the fact that these are people too! Anywho I made a point to look at this man and respond to him when he said hello politely. However the backery next store was closing in a few minutes so I was in a hurry. Once inside I decided to treat him to something aswell. When I came outside I engaged him in coversation, all though he seemed very distant and perhaps drugged. He had very frightening eyes, and a slow, perhaps delayed speech. I asked him if he'd ever been to the backery next store and he said yes, although he didn't seem to understand what I was asking. And I gave him the cookies and told him I'd just bought myself some and had heard good things about the backery. I wish I could of done more, but it was a good start. Someday I really want to make it my goal to be more human with the people that need it the most, and have more dialogue with the homeless. He said "thank you love" and I was on my way. I hope he likes them.. I hope I got a good kind! I felt kind of stupid buying him some stupid cookies instead of something really nutritious, or a blanket or something.. Oh well.

Anyway next I went to the market and gathered up some grub. It was here that I met the most amazing woman at cash! She was a big black lady, probably around 50 years old. She looked very tired and I asked her if she was and how her day was. She told me that she is a mature, Masters student at DalHousie and she works 4 jobs!! She's had 3 kids aswell, who are also in university. I told her that it sounded like she did a good job with them!

I don't know how she does it, I told her I often have trouble balancing my school alone. She told me that going to back to school takes guts, but it's never to late and it's one of the best things she's ever done for herself. She told me it's truely fullfilling. When I told her my mom wants to go get her Red Seal (to be a cheif) she told me to tell her to do it! Call her tonight in fact !

Her pastor once said something during a sermon at her church that changed her life. He said:

"The richess places in the world are not the oil fields of Kuwaite
or the diamond mines of South Africa but the cemetaries filled with so many dead who never fullfilled their dreams"

Last semester she maintained a B average! She's now writing her Masters thesis with Political Science as her major.

On my way home I swear I didn't even feel the weight of my groceries or the pain in my feet and I speed walked home. Kind of brought me down coming back into the lazy, negetive atmosphere of my student housing though. A mess of dishes everywhere, and my roommate bitching as usual "Ughhhh I feel like deathhhh". Arg well maybe you shouldn't of drank so much last night, slept all day, and eaten only poutine :|! Anyway the first thing I did once unpacking the groceries is message mom about this whole story.

I think I love life again!

I'm Back!

Today was an amazing fullfilling, empowering day. Lately I've been so down, apathetic, and unenergetic and I couldn't figure out why. Today I spent sometime with myself and found myself again. The real, true me. I went and got things sorted out at the bank, made all my appiontments, hit up my favorite shops, read the local activist magazine, went to Pete's Fruitique bought a delishious veggie hotdog with sauerkraut and ate it out on the street. Little by little I started feeling energy and happiness flow back into my soul. Soon I was smiling walking down the street and feeling beautiful again, I felt like everyone was looking at how good I looked! People seemed interesting to me again, I didn't feel like they hated me, were annoying, or were thinking of how ugly I looked. I became friendly again, and the guy at the supermarket even hit on me! I had coversations with everyone who served me today like friends, and I saw a silly bulldog who didn't want to walk with his owner today and I actually laughed aloud! Very rare these days! And then again farther on my way, I saw a group of japenese boys laying on a bed matress on the sidewalk waiting to move into a house, and I laughed with them as I walked by. I swear I even looked happier when I got home, and I felt healthy for the first time since early September. I think the color has returned to my face!

I feel like I've made a break through finally. My mind has returned bringing me clarity, intelligence, and memory that I've been long waiting for. Oh joy! I'm back!

A calling? - (Last night's dream)

I had a beautiful dream last night, I was attending some type of sporting event at a school and the sport involved horses riding around and around a base ball diamond in a high-walled arena type building. I was standing at the sidelines down by a huge wooden doorway, the whole diamond was surrounded by stone walls like the gladiators used to fight in and thousands of spectators watched from the seating on the side opposite of me.

I was chatting with a friend who was for some reason telling me his woes about a his girl friend, who was much older then himself. So much older in fact that people assumed it was his mother. Random I know, but I really didn't care, rather I focused my attention on the powerful feet of the horses and their majestic canter around the ring.

Just then a light rain began to fall and a wave of worry fell over me as the dark clouds rolled in. I told my friend that the horses would get hurt if the ground became too mucky and I was worried because they were soon going to be exhausted from this constant and pointless canter that seemed to entertain and entrance the crowd so greatly. The rain began to fall harder and I kept repeating to my friend "they are going to get hurt if the ground gets too wet!".

The rain suddenly came down harder with a clap of thunder and the crowd roared in excitement as if a goal had been scored. The horses slowed but continued valiantly, looking dry and untouched somehow by the storm, their manes flying slow motion like you see on Pantene hair commercials. Around the circle they rode, only slightly slower, like a carousel with a wrench thrown into the gears.

The rain fell so hard it hit the ground with force, splattering in drops the size of small pancakes. The ground became very dark in color, thick and sticky. The horses acted like mixing beaters as if stirring a bowl of rich brownie batter. I remained at the door and watched anxiously worrying for the welfare of the horses. Two of the horses got their foot stuck in the mud and slipped hurting their front legs, only to limp on in the circle and then to regain their strength as if by a miracle. The arena began to flood like a swimming pool, the spectators now nowhere to be seen. The horses were in a chaotic panic no longer riding the circle but galloping in horror around the ring's wall in all directions looking for escape. I opened the ring door and entered. There must of been fifteen horses, all huge with strong prominent muscles and well groomed coats and manes. I stood by an open door and the huge mammals began riding towards me. It was frightening and overwhelming, as they could easily crush me under their great force, yet I knew that wasn't their intention. They came to me like a child runs to it's mother in fright, in need of comfort and reassurance. They rode in a spaced out herd but arrived at my feet one by one. I took ahold of their halters (they weren't wearing bridles) and kept stroking and hugging their large necks with tears in my eyes but with an overwhelming happiness filling me up. A completeness, connection and pure love. As if I had met a long lost loved one after being apart and worried about them for so long. I kept thinking "I missed you, I missed you!" and "how can I be with horses again? I have to be with them again."
In the end I lead them out one by one and lead them to safety.










I used to ride 4 years ago.. and I always felt I had connection with the horses but I quit because I didn't want to ride proffessionally and felt that my instructor was too intense.. I just wanted to ride and have fun. I'd love to have my own horse someday, it's my dream.

Peace

The Club Scene (narrative)

"Predrinks with your girls erase the anxiety of social interaction and vanish taboos, making most anything excusable. Stupid remarks, disorientation, forgetting peoples names all quite forgivable in your current state. The music is blasting, the same club songs over and over at the house, as if you were practicing for the real deal or getting pumped up for a big game. My girls groom each other like they are preparing for some type of ceremony, lending clothes, straightening each others hair, doing their make up. Becoming totally different people. They dress up in costumes; bright dresses that are more like shirts, paired with leggings and heels. Making themselves up to look "skanky", wearing the title almost proudly.

After drunken stumbling to the bar, you wait in the freezing cold in your dresses trying to keep your hair in check and your feet safely on the ground, making sure you have all your things still and that you get the correct change after every interaction. The bouncer at the door checks my id and bag, and then I'm admitted into the madness. Entering the club is like entering a parallel universe, the music pumps, beating to the peoples writhing bodies. The whole place seems to exude a dangerous and exciting sensuality, as people take advantage of their unaccountability and disguises. The men who aren't on the dance floor seem to linger eyeing women near the doorways and in the shadows , drooling, waiting to pounce like tigers. The club lights flash and the music pounds its rhythm into my very being, rattling like electric shock surging through my rib cage as I step over the sharp floor of broken glass. Crunch, crunch, crunch, feeling the crushing of brown beer bottles and glasses under my feet. I'm surrounded by people, all over the dance floor, hands in the air, shouting lyrics, flipping hair, shaking their asses. People above too with drinks looking down on us, mostly men, their faces green, red, blue and yellow as the lights hit them. The drunkest girls get up on the stages on the side of the club, getting up on the poles. Men roam, weaving in and out of the groups, wriggling through spaces, scouting for girls, taking it all in. Looking suave like blank slates, nothing but testosterone behind the eyes.

Most rules are discontinued at this point. Girls act as if performing mating dances, and men approach licking their lips and grabbing. It is perhaps as close as humans will ever get to being primal like other mammals, as men choose their ladies and pull them close from behind, women unopposing in most cases. And then it's like you are fucking right on the floor and the men will feel you and rub you and try to take you home. And that's when you are shocked into reality again if you are sober enough, and responsible you will put a stop to it and run to another man or back to your friends or home..
............................................
.. End... "

Etsy Finds

How I'd dress my kid .. if I had one lol.






































Other finds:

I have a new thing with mushrooms and moss... :P

Feeling Inhibitited.

Tonight was a night of great creative incline, and sudden suffercation of that creative flame by the reality of my surrondings. Tonight was a night of longing for solitude and freedom of expression in a home without an excess of possessions, material worship or waste. Without people whom misunderstand and judge me, and who do not seek to smoothdf my creative spark.

Tonight was a night during which I wished that I lived alone in a broken down flat in the city with minimalist themes, and true freedom..my art and an escape from wealth and the superficiality.

I want to live with free spirts..
I want to be a free spirt.

People who don't give a fuck.

Conversation I just had with my asshole roommate about a program I advocate for and help run on my university campus, which brings a refugee to Canada, gives them permenant recidency , and provides finacially so they can study free of charge for the first year of their studies. Basically takes them out of the dead end, violent situation they are in and gives them a new start. Changes their LIVES.

Roommate: "Yeah I basically think the program is retarded.."
Me: *blank face* "..."
Roommate: " no offense.."
Me: "why would you think that?!"
Roommate: " Well jeeze no one helps me with my education" <.

Me: (in less detail and with as much calm as I could muster)
"Do you realize that these people are refugees, in the poorest parts of the world, who have just escaped with their lives from asylum counties where they were at risk of DEATH or TORTURE, where they probably witnessed countless autrocities, and then relocated to hell hole camps in which there are no oppurtunties, and scarce food, and water ? A place where they swelter in 40 C degree heat every day in food lines where they patiently wait for food to be handed out, in lines where many of them collapse from disease, starvation, or heat stroke?!?!?! These people are dying every day and if they don't die they are still living in this hopeless situation for YEARS, maybe their whole lives and you think it's futile and "retarded" that people in Canada are tryinig to help them out!?!?"
Roommate: "Well whatever, you're only saving one person"
Me: "One person is better then none! We work our asses off every year to bring that ONE person to safety, so they can study in a free, secure place to share our oppurtunities. If we could bring more we would. That's not something you can belittle"
Roommate: "Yeah well I don't really know what to think about it all. I still think it sounds dumb"
*Goes in the shower*

Me: ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG, ready to flip off the handle or die of shock that one person can be so stupid, and self centered.

This is a girl who is a shop-a-holic, wastes food like no bodies business, hates foriegners with accents, and can't be bothered to hold a job for more then a week this school year.

...oh I am so.. angry, I'm ashamed to live with a girl like her.
*sigh*

I want to BE like this girl

Random request for a roommate I found online. Her description encompasses every trait I wish I had. Thought that was kind of interesting and seeing how she'll prob never stumble across this I thought I'd post the blurb just for my own reference.


"Hey! i'm a montreal kid, and i'm moving to -----! I'm lookin for some like minded kids to live with, maybe some people who'd rather hit the guitar (or the slide whistle, or the accordeon) than the t.v.

who might share my insatiable love affair with bikes, who like making food that doesn't have meat in it, who don't smoke cigarettes in the house, who might like my cat... (certified as the awesomest cat ever born)
who like to play outside and put art all over the place

i have lots to contribute to your household! i'll make bread! i'll let you play my guitar/accordeon/drumset! (oh yeah, i have a drumset) (err, and a trumpet)
my cat will amuse you and if you're lucky keep you warm at night!
i'll cook awesome stirfries and lasagnas and lentil burgers from scratch!
i'll teach you how to silkscreen, knit, crochet, sew, fix bikes, grow plants, dumpster dive, stencil, and squirt cream into your coffee in such a way that it looks like a latte, when in fact it is only normal coffee with cream!
(how could you possibly pass that one up?)

i'm good at unplugging drains and caulking bathtubs.
you'll be able to practise your french or spanish with me. (if either of those are your first language, all the better...)"



Everything in red are things I wish I could do. I feel like such a boring person. Half-assed and not living up to the person who I've always wanted to be but haven't had the time/energy/bravery(?) to be. I still have time.. instead of living with my KD eating, shop-a-holic, comformist roomates who dress me up like a doll and send me out to the clubs perhaps I should of found a shitty place downtown where I could paint the walls and smoke joints out my window with this girl. Oh well. Maybe artists next year.. her trumpet sounded annoying anyway!

Happy Birthday to Me! :)

So yesterday was my 19th birthday and I lived it out like most people do. Drinks and partying. Now legal this was my first night at a club, my first time buying a drink, I took my first shot ( a porn star) and I realized that I can actually dance when I'm drunk.

Anyway it was a blast! And I would definately do it again.

This is my good, good friend whom I randomly met up with. Quite a few of my friends ended up coming, I was sooo pleased :)!

"Mom, dad.. I'm dating a guy.." WHAT!?

So I told my parents on the phone today about my new and first boyfriend. Awkward. I didn't know if I should mention it, since it's not really serious or anything, or if I should just leave it, but since it is something I'm pursuing I thought I mays well be open and let them know. I mean.. it is going to come up, especially when I go home, and I don't want them to think that I'm keeping something from them, you know? So my thoughts were better to tell them then let it slide and have them find out from someone else and think I don't love them enough to tell them, or he's a sketchy guy that I'm trying to hide from them.

So for your amusement here's how the conversations basically went;

Me: "So dad I just thought I should probably bring this up and let you know that I've started dating someone... Because I'll be visiting him when I get home, and I didn't want to you to find out really late and think I was trying to hide anything.. You know?"
Dad: "Oh..." *composition and shock* "ok".. "So, what's his name?"
Me: "Cyril"
Dad: "CEREAL?"
Me: "yeah kind of. He's Nigerian."
Dad: " Oh."
Me: " He came from Nigeria 2 years ago..." yaddy yadda yadda , giving spiel.
Dad: "Wait. He's black?"
Me: "Uh.. yeah."
Dad: "Ok." * processing shocking new information "How old is he?" * bracing himself to hear he is 25 or something with a Harley*
Me: "20"
Dad: *THANK GOD*
Me: "He might come visit me this weekend"
Dad: "Ok sweetie, just dont' rush into anything!" *ahhhh a man is coming to stay with my baby for the weekend!!!!! Mentally freaking.*

Mom and I

Mom was pretty cool about everything. Curious but easy to talk to. I told her about what he'd told me about Nigeria and the dangers there and what not. She asked some weird questions though, the weirdest was :
"Does he plan on moving back there?".
Me: "I don't know! Probably. MOM we've been dating for 2 weeks, I don't intend to marry him and move away to Nigeria with him!"
Mom: "Well hunny.. you never know!"

*smacks head* Ohhhh dear.
My poor parents. Having a daughter like me that makes them deal with all my bizarre situations. :P

My Friday Night.

Yes, penis cake, kittens and shisha. We had a fantasia party at my house, which was quite interesting ahha. Then I hit the town up, and then returned to the nestleing grounds; Nicks place.
Oh, reassurance and safety from the night. Precious time blazing and blowing smoke rings like the Alice in Wonderland Caterpillar with awesome friends. Listening and grooving to Bob Marely on the stereo. We all just chilled, chatted a bit, and fell asleep in our chairs with the music playing waiting for food delievery that never came. I woke up, went to the food place, got it, ate mine, payed for everyone elses, delievered theirs, left them sleeping there.

What else can I say? That is the way to do it. This is the life :)

News.

Well finally i'm set up. No more sleeping on the floor with belongings scattered all around me. Harray!

Everything is going hunky-dori here. I'm keeping organized and progressive and healthy. I'm basically very proud of myself ^_^. I get up at 7 on weekdays (friday is not a weekday when you're in university) and I go to my classes, eat healthy, go to the gym, do my readings, go to my meetings, do something fun and go to bed.

Things have quickly changed for me since coming back. I've moved into a new house, started all new courses, made some new friends, began going out with my first ever boyfriend and so on.

Yes , it's my first boy friend and I'm a second year university student, a little behind? Sure. Anyway his name is Cyril, he lives back home, and I hate that we are operating a long distance relationship, but it's better then nothing at all. He's a super guy. Really caring, gentle, flattering, clever and funny. He goes to university, and he moved to Canada from Nigeria 2 years ago..

We met at a conference 10 months ago and haven't seen each other since. But we've been corresponding via internet for the time we've been apart. We've been flirting since Christmas of last year, but I've only let things get serious as of last week.
Now we have proclaimed ourselves as an official couple, which we were quite excited about declaring.

We have 31 days before I come home and we are able to see each other. It's pretty brutal :(. Now I am with someone who adores me and whom I adore but we can't even be together. Sucks.

Anyway other then that life is rolling right along. Things could not be better. :)

From Care-free Country to Chaos City..

Hello again! A lot has happened the last few weeks for me and I have been very busy so forgive me.
I moved back to Halifax to start my second year at school. I've moved in to my first place of my OWN. It's a house that I share with a bunch of girls (5), and it's pretty fantastic! So I've been living here for almost a week now and my ordered furniture is yet to arrive...which really stinks. I've been sleeping on an air matress and my stuff is everywhere because I have no where to put it.. My stuff was supposed to come today but I guess there was some big mix up that I'm not going to go into so they aren't bringing it for another couple days. Oh well, I'll live. But just to give you an idea of my living situation right now here's a picture:














My first day of classes was yesterday. They all seem really good, except for MicroEconomics which I am really scared for! I have my first ever seminar class and it's focused on Post Colonial Lit (Africa, South Asia and the Carribean), there's only like 6 people in and my prof seems really cool. I'm really psyched for that course. Then I have a bunch of first year courses that I needed to take that I didnt last year.. but they seem good and there's lots of 2nd/3rd year students taking those too.

But yeah.. I've been super busy since the moment I arrived. Running around trying to get things organized for a student organization for human rights and international issues that I'm co-chair of called WUSC (I'll write more about that specifically in the future). Today I spent all day recruiting for example and I've had meetings with people for the last 3 days. It's all good though, we are just going to be super busy this year trying to fundraise and make everything a success.

My last day at work was the 29th. Here's a picture of K and I. I bought her that pink stuffie as a good-bye gift (pink is her favorite color), she freaked! She loved it soooo much! She's all
"mom loooook, Katie give it to me!!! I'm going to bring it too school!! Okay mom? I'm going to bring it to school with me!! Yayyyyy *dancing around, giving me hugs* Thank you! Thank you Katie!"

I'm going to miss that chick. I got Drew a Pound Puppy stuffie. She loved that too. As I mentioned before she is nuts for dogs. I gave to her before she left for the day and she was so pleased. She looked at me and said "Oh THANK you!" in her high pitched excited voice wearing her typical grin. Then she took it in her arms and squeezed it gently with love.

It was a hard last day. We councillors were sad to see all the kids go, and I think they were sad to see us go too. The hardest part was saying good bye to Drew. On the way home I cried. Because I knew I might never see her again.

Anyway I'm off to a meeting soon. I'll try to continue to post regularly but it won't be as often with all this stuff I have going on.

"Do you realize that someday everyone you know will die?" (flaming lips)

So upon entering the play room bustling with kids this morning at my work place (a day camp) I'm greeted by the 9 year old special needs girl I work with urgently telling me something that she was very excited about!

K:"Oppa in a boxx!"

I looked around puzzled and another counselor came over to me and began to explain the situation. K (for confidentiality we'll call her that) had just attended her first ever wake ,as a learning experience.

K talked about it for the first hour solid at least. She has a thing with repeating :P

K: "Know what!?! Oppa deadd. He dead. His body diedddd, and now it's in the dirt! Now he go to heaven!"
Me: "yep.."
K: "Know what! Everybody diesss. Mommy going to die. Daddy going to die.."
Me: "yup that's right.."
K: "Me going to die." *points at me* "YOU going to die"
Me: ... *blank face and tired morning eyes* ".. yeah.. that's right K"
Co-worker: "Sounds like it's going to be a depressing day for you"
Me: ugh.

Hahaha and she was right. It was quite the funeral of a day!

Someday Ramblings. Written today.

"Today I dreamt of a girl like me living a more daring, more care-free life. Living with locals, floating down lazy rivers in a big rubber tube like you can at a theme park, only with friends and bottles of vodka spirits resting on your lap. Traveling through Sweden, Switzerland and the like. Camping and leather tramping, using hobo slang and carving peach pits. Riding the rails (but legally ), drinking out of home made mugs made from tin cans, living in the forest for days, having free love in tents at folk festivals, and rejoicing in natural music around camp fires.

No hotels, planes, buses, money, shops, or tourists traps. Just old friends, new friends, myself by myself with my ideal body.

I've been dreaming of writing a proper children's book and personalizing everything I own with creativity like an artist does. Heman magnets, painted purple rubber ducks gracing my bathroom, decoupaged boxes, framed marker mash-ups, mobiles and button strings hanging from my clothes and bags. I've been dreaming of onion strings and dried herbs hanging from the celing of my pantry or a root cellar like Old Ms. Rabbit does in Beatrix Potter's " Benjamin Bunny". I've been thinking of being the eccentric one more obviously and finally nailing my old Chuck Talyors up to a board for display. I've been thinking of making bean pictures like Martha Steward made the one time I watched her show and making found art pieces. Creating my own Daniel Johnston type cartoon characters, wooden and metal folk art hiding in a tangled garden that I don't cultivate when I'm old. A garden like the ones featured on shows like "Weird Homes" feature. I've been thinking of hooking mixed up mats like the Alzheimer patients at the nursing home used to make for my mom, cross stitching and pressing flowers in heavy poetry books on my shelves.

Of turning my old age life into a life of partial solitude with a husband. Or the same life, here of course, but perhaps with kids. Because you have to pick one or the other or you turn out like Astrid's mother in White Oleander or Therza's mother in 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being', unnamed and cruel , crushed under the sacrifice of bearing children that they never should of made. Turned into selfish, evil, trolls of women that anger readers and only serve to raise beautiful girl that live anguished lives. Girls who fall at the feet of bad men who show them attention and superficial affection and good boys that want to save them from themselves but can never undo the damage that has already been done by the mothers that refused to eat, or go out and walked around the parlor naked refusing to close the blinds. Aging women, rebelling against responsibility, angered at long gone exs and bitter because their daughters are more beautiful then they are and that they were never successful at ditching their burdens in life.

And then I think of being the next crazy character here in my town. The next legend like those crazy cat ladies, or junk collectors, or the man who refuses modern society, lives in isolation, and grumps at children. Except I would be cheerful but crazy and interesting. Living happily my own way.

All the greatest people are crazy. Making bird whistles by the rivers and painting canvases on the veranda curled up in a shawl. Writing without periods without paragraphs , without rules, in the first draft at least because of utter inspiration, flow, energy and excitement. Too many words too many thoughts to purge, everthing a metphor for something else the way no one else would ever see it.

Life anyway, my way, is wonderous and rewarding."

My Weekend Camping Trip

So lately I've been grumpy and unable to deal with people and everyday life. So when the semi-nice weather hit this weekend after a week of straight rain I decided to embark on a day of solitude down by the river/pond. I escaped far enough from my home that it was too far to walk back to but remained on my dad's property where I was hidden my trees.

I packed up some TP, trail mix-y food, fruit and granola, warm clothes, a sleeping bag, matches and my camera and video camera along with a book and some paper and I was set! I dug out the fire pit and set up my tent adding to my previous site.

I spent the evening by the fire, chilling and enjoying the absolute freedom and self-reliance.
I did not bring a watch so I had no idea of time. I stayed up until it got dark, went to sleep on the hard ground, listened to the rain hitting the tent, and hoped not hear any scratches at my tent that would spook me.














In the morning after the clouds had cleared the sun burnt through the tent walls with powerful, seemingly magnified rays. I woke up drowsy, stirred only by the inescapable and sudden heat surrounding me. I munched on some granola, cleaned up the tent a bit, and went to read my book on the bank. I laid on my straw mat and listened to the sea gulls splish-splash in the pond screeching at each other and sailing around pond together like little sail boats afloat in a city fountain.

Hiding behind the high stalks of yellow rod I felt like a mother by the pool with her children not far away, splashing each other and playing games of Marko Polo.
Later they jump and flip in the pool of fresh water yelling for me to "watch, watch!" at moments of brief remembrance of my quiet, still, existence.

The Vegetables of my labor

Not the greatest turn out but at least I got something! My potatoes were rolling right along but then I didn't water them enough and they turned yellow and withered, my radish were too close together and didn't really grow even after going to seed :(, carrots didn't grow either. But my peas, lettuce, onions and kale grew! haha

Now I know what to do differently next time.
Water more, and space stuff out!

With four days left..

The cleanse is over. I give up. Done done done.
I have no energy, I've gained the 5 pounds back, I've lost 40 bucks.
The whole thing was probably unhealthy and definitely useless.
I regret the whole thing.

Oh well. Lesson learned. I'll include old foods and try and keep on a healthy eating path. Hopefully I will regain my energy soon.

Lazy

Nothing's new really. Today is the 7th day of my detox, I'm half way through! I weighed myself yesterday and I've lost 5 pounds, I'm hoping for 5 more this week. Today I'm pretty tired and blah. I haven't been getting anything done at all lately because I just have absolutely NO energy, the opposite of what this detox is supposed to give me. Oh well, it's almost over.

It's been raining the whole weekend. Blah. Doesn't help on the energy front. I guess it's supposed to rain more this week, which sucks because rain is no good when you work at a day camp. The kids will drive you bonkers inside all day! Part of the reason I am dreading another week of work, but I start again tomorrow.

Recap:
Tired
Unproductive
Lazy
Rainy

*sigh*

bitch bitch bitch
haha.