i hate when my feet fall asleep.

but i love brand new more than i love pretty much anything.

un jour...

My dream home is half city and half wilderness. What could be more perfect than Vancouver? Here is a goose, swimming around with ducks and beavers and swans, right next to downtown. This will be my home one day.

grunt grunt grunt.

I have been watching so much women's tennis lately.

In other news, I went to Canada and fell in love with it and I want to live there. In BC. With beavers and trees.

And more than ever, I love honey mustard.

skate for love.

honestly, every time i meet rob dyer i feel all mushy inside. he's one the nicest, most genuine human beings i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. he's of those people who have a perma-grin on their faces, and one that could light up a room, to boot. he'll be the first to give you a hug if you tell him something sad, with absolutely zero pretending to care. he just cares. there are so few people like that left in the world. i kinda wish i were one of them.

in other news, i'm an old lady who left warped tour early because it was raining too hard to stand around for three hours waiting for bands i had already seen a bunch of times. i'm officially no longer hardcore. it kinda sucks.

i'm old.

paparazzi.

AHHH SO AMAZING

where it's at.

a woman in the metro gave me a free sample of frank's red hot sauce, and i gotta say, it's hella good. their marketing slogan is something about putting this sauce on everything, and holy shit, do i want to put it on everything. its so good. red hot is where it's at.

in other news, i'm revisiting a place of guilt-free daydreaming. i had stopped thinking about anything that would take place further than three months into the future (or at least i was trying to), but now i'm so over that shit. i have all these exciting things to daydream about, and now that i know someone else is daydreaming about them too, i'll stop depriving myself of the full-fledged, before-bed, on-the-bus, brushing-my-teeth, microwaving-something daydream time. daydreaming is where it's at.

hooray for people who say jerky things and then say the opposite of said jerky thing and feel bad about having been jerky and as such make you feel really, really happy!

i feel really, really happy!

totally marriage material.

please watch this and melt in a volcanic eruption of adorableness.

down with capitalist whores.

This is the singular best anti-corporation graffito ever, found on Mont-Royal. Now if only I didn't like the peanut butter so much...

my favourite things.

new moleskines, art java soy lattes, and julia.

window seat.

It's official; I booked a flight! I'm going to Canada!

After a particularly emotionally exhausting day (what with the excitement of my first shift at Ardene and the trauma and heartbreak of Michael Jackson's death) Scott called to cheer me up with exciting news: he'll be done planting the trees two weeks early! Apparently some business fuckup caused them to lose a pretty big contract at the end- shitty for their wallets, awesome for their girlfriends! I booked my flight the next morning (read: payday). I leave the 28th of July at the crack of dawn- and I have no idea what to wear! There's a lot of pressure to top last year's white cotton summer dress which he loved. (I wanted it to have a vague I-might-look-like-this-in-a-wedding-dress-someday vibe that one would only catch subliminally- or better yet, only realize years later when I'm seen in a real wedding dress. I think this year's should have more of a feel-free-to-whisk-me-away-and-marry-me-right-now-by-a-Michael-Jackson-impersonator vibe.) The only thing is, this year there are so many more factors! I'll be the one on the plane, not him! Is it cold up there? Will my hair frizz? Should I straighten it at 4 am before leaving or wear it curly? Do I wear a dress? Will my legs be cold? Will my arms be cold? Will my dress look cute with my carry-on? WILL I PUKE ON THE PLANE????

Oh jeez. Panic ensues.

Bref, I'm excited.

In other news, my district manager at Liquid caught me working at Ardene yesterday. Maj awk.

Excitement!

uh-oh.

at the risk of becoming someone who blogs only about cupcakes, i feel the need to share how adorable these measuring spoons are!You're all fools if you haven't checked out Bakerella yet! Love times a million!

def maj ador.

i fell in love with these majorly adorable bath bombs! soooo cute!

867.

is the area code in Yukon, where my boyfriend is right now.

what the helllllll.



in other news, im getting stoked for my adventure to canada!

kooooooooooooooooooooooooodo.

i'm on hold.

annoy.

yayyyy!

in other news, i got a job at ardene, about which i am quite stoked.
i started a blog for my photog; a real blog about a real thing!
and i just ordered a shit ton of .moneen. merch because they released a new ep.
i bought it on vinyl; i don't even have anything to listen to it on.
helllllo, vintage shopping spree please!!!
also i joined twitter and i hate myself for it.
i only did it because moneen did.
i really hope they never start doing heroin or anything.
yargh

best job ever.

saturday morning breakfast cereal

minty funky fresh.

i made mojitos because its summer.

blogblogblog.

I wish I had a real blog. Something that's about something. Something about something that I know something about. That would be rad.

epic fail of the shit kind.

i have found the solution to my homelessness and the key out of the poorhouse.
i am moving back in with my parents.

this totally blows.


scott is gone. he's in canada planting trees.
this is last summer all over again.

slightly more optimistic, slightly more poor.

argh.

survival.

Sometimes, I cry. And last night, last night I cried. Nothing happened, really, worth crying over. But the tears started, and then the sobs, and then the fear of hysteria. Behind closed doors, I shake. I shake and sob and hope it ends. It feels like sometimes it never ends. Sometimes the raging terror and furious psychosis creep up on my and tackle me and knock me over. I land, dishevelled, on the ground and try to claw my way back up. I end up grasping at nothing and clawing only at my own self. Sometimes I can stand. Sometimes I walk. I push it down, away, inside, but never deep enough. It always surfaces again. It eats away at my rusted interior until I eventually collapse. One day it will be over.

these automatic flowers won't do.

i've been feeling so optimistic these past few days.
springtime is here and that's wonderful.

sometimes i feel that as long as there's sunshine, everything will be fine.


mostly.

planets conspire.

i'm so impatient.

live. love. die.

I miss Moneen. The feeling I get when I see them live can be compared to nothing else. It's like I'm glowing on the inside, this incredibly forceful light is inside of me, pushing every emotion I've ever felt out of my core and towards my surface. I feel like I'm in a secret place where nothing else in the Universe matters; the 'secret place' I used to go for peace as a child when I'd put my head on my desk for quiet time. I get the feeling of being some magical, omniscient ceature who is equally the most important and most insignificant being that exists.
Tout existe. Rien n'existe. J'adore Moneen.

Country Living, here I come.

If I ever have an article or column in Country Living magazine, I'm killing myself. I will papercut myself to death with the first issue. The title of my column could be "Adventures and Misadventures of a City Girl in the Country". I'd have articles like "My Pug Could Kick Your Border Collie's Ass" or "Feed My Goat What?!" about all the things my goat eats. There could be "Where's the Traffic?", "At Night I Hear Crickets Instead of Sirens", "Places I've Seen Squirrels" (Everywhere!) and "I Drove to my Neighbour's House".

My concept would be pointing out the absurdity in day-to-day country life from the perspective of a city girl. It'd be clever and innovative for awhile, but the magazine would eventually cut the column because it made the housewives depressed upon realizing that they're trapped in a vast, green wasteland of fresh air. The country folk just don't appreciate cynicism like us city gals do.

I will always be a city girl. No matter how many squirrels I feed or cushions I sew or campfires I have in my backyard, I will always be a city girl. What you do in life doesn't matter at all, as long as you remain who you are while you do it. It's simply a question of self-respect.

Jill+Sam=Jam.

Jill and Sam
Yeah they make jam
They put bread and peanut butter on their jam
Cuz it was made by Jill and Sam
They put undies in their jam
The undies belong to Sam
But Jill wears undies too
They were also in the jam
The undies did not belong to Sam
That crazy little superguy
Ate some jam cuz he likes Jill and Sam
Allison’s Best Friend Prinze Jr ate some jam
Cuz he didn’t want to eat Jill or Sam
When I swallow it makes funny noises in my ear like Jam
I hope it never happened to Jill or Sam
Life Saver licking contests taste like jam
They were invented by Jill and Sam
I had a moose and on it there was jam
I got it from Jill and Sam
They like strawberry jam
Cuz Jill calls herself Sam
They make cheese flavoured jam
Jill found it in the hair of Sam
They put hair and fuzz on their jam
But Jill has to ask permission from Sam
The doctor hit me on the knee with a hammer and told me the gooey red stuff was jam
My doctors name wasn’t Jill or Sam
My undies tasted like jam
Said Sam
Jill and Sam put ham in the jam
When you stick Sprite up your nose it tastes like jam
I learned this from my sister Sam
Clinton and Bruce eat hair off the jam
Jill asked them to visit Sam
Jill put Sam in the jam.


Mara and I wrote this when we were kids... I can't remember if we were in grade 5 or 7... 7 would be embarassing but probably more accurate. What the hell is wrong with Jill and Sam? And who the hell would even consider eating that jam!! Undies, hair, fuzz, cheese, ham... SAM?! What the fuck. What. The. Fuck.

together we'll ring in the new year.

Holy shit, it's 2009!

The past year has been awesome and incredibly productive. I spent the entire year in a relationship with the most amazing man. I went back to school. I moved out. I think I buckled down.

Although, with the start of every year comes the inevitable: another birthday. This time I will be turning twenty-one. Being 21 is totally different from being 20. When you're 20, that's it, you're 20. But once you turn 21, it starts. The beginning of the end. You are a twentysomething. You are in your twenties. You are in the decade of weddings and babies and careers and decision-making. And I'm not talking double-or-decaf, pumps-or-kitten-heels decisions. I mean house-or-condo-, city-country-burbs, stay-at-home-mom-or-fierce-career-woman, paper-or-plastic kind of decisions.

I'm in cegep. I spend my days with seventeen-year-olds who are theoretically my peers. I've never been outside of Quebec for longer than four days. I work weekends in a smoothie bar. I buy Britney Spears albums. I am clearly not ready for a white picket fence.

I think the best I can do, for now, is pretend. I cannot change the literal factors in my life such as cegep or living in a 4 1/2 with Patricia, but I can adjust how I feel about these things. I can pretend like my schooling is really serious and important, and treat it as though it were the ultimate factor upon which the rest of my life were depending. (That's actually a pretty smart idea; it might actually lead to academic success.) I can think motivating things and reflect upon how my life is on track. It is, really, I'm just impatient. I want the future to come faster.

I want the semester to be over and to be embarking on my summer adventure with Scott. I want to be moved out of this apartment and living alone. I want two (ish) years to pass and then to consider moving in with Scott. I want cegep to be done so I can start studying real things. I want to move to BC and go to University there. I secretly want Scott to come with me. I want to become a journalist or columnist of sorts. I want to become a teacher. I want to live a life coherent with someone else's. I want to have a significant other/ spouse who is happy living where we live, who can work at his job comfortably or study where he studies comfortably... What I basically mean is that I want our separate lives to fit well together so that we can eventually build a common life to share, this anonymous spouse and I.

I'm a thinker. I think too much and I analyze to much and I dream too much. It's dangerous, because sometimes dreams don't work out. Sometimes dreams change. I guess change is far less problematic than failure, at least.

This New Year has been my most inspiring yet. As a rule, I generally don't "believe" in new year's resolutions or anything like that, but I have a feeling this year will be different. I actually have a feeling this year will be different about a lot of things. Normally, my theory is that if you want to change or improve something about yourself, there's no sense in waiting until the new calendar to change it, just do it! Interestingly enough, this year, my self-improvement "renovations" happen to fall around the new year, which seems pretty convenient. (It also happens to illustrate perfectly one of my goals: to be less passive-aggressive.) Also, since my life is generally more calendar-oriented (largely due to school), it should be easier to "structure" my year.

I've decided that 2009 is the year of trying new things. I'm going to try more outdoorsy things and appreciate nature. My main goal to keep an open mind and not be so quick to judge. I'm making a point of reminding myself that "trying new things" and "changing who you are" are two totally different things, when executed with control. I plan on trying new things. With Scott, probably, but for Scott, no. (Well, maybe a bit.) Mostly for myself, to expand my knowledge and increase my experiences. I'm excited to have new experiences, I'm excited to learn new things... I'm pretty much just excited about life.