I spent several hours last night watching the glowing stars on my ceiling dim. It takes 1.5 hours for them to fade, and I fell asleep before they faded completely. Last night was hard. There's no reason it should have been, it just was. I was curled up under my fuzzy blanket like burrito. Eventually I listened to the song 'both hands' by Ani, from the 'like i said' album. It calmed me down a bit, and eventually I fell asleep.

1.
Teeth to lips.
Biting that loose bit of skin, tempting. Pulling until blood comes, revealing the life inside her. Then the searing pain reminding her she's alive.

2.
Finger nails to hands.
Pulling at the cuticles until they tear. Then blood comes, pooling around the nail, red and thin. She rips away the last of the skin. The searing pain reminding her she's alive.

3.
Glass to thigh.
Cutting at the milky skin, scratching until it marks, bleeds, scars. Late one night, and then another. Night after night for a year, maybe a little less, felt like more. She scratches, until she snaps. Then the searing pain reminding her she's alive.

4.
Four years later.
Like an addiction it comes back. Like every slice is one step closer, and one slice means going back. She knows how it works. She runs her hands along the inside of her thighs, remembers every scratch she ever made. Remembers the glass so close at hand.

She's okay, she doesn't scar.


This is what I couldn't stop thinking about. It went from internal debating over "should I share this," to "if I cut could I go to sleep" It's been... four years I think since I last intentionally cut myself. I go through stages where it's all I think about, or it's all I want to do. No one's ever noticed, or said anything to me. I like it that way, because most of the time I can pretend it never happened. I don't scar, my legs look like they should. I like that no one tried to help me, or stop me, because it doesn't work that way, and if one person says "You know I'm there for you, I'll stop sharing stuff like this" I know you're there for me, but it doesn't work that way. I never once wanted to kill myself. I was very careful about everything, I don't really know what I was doing, but that was never ever my intention.

Bottom line I'm fine now. I just want you to know that I'm not always what you see.

The comments appear to be working now, so you can leave me some comments now.

Also, I don't think I'm cut out of the stained glass business. All of my guitar callouses are gone, and now I have lots of little ting papercut type cuts in the tips of my fingers. Gosh.... I wonder if they should be hurting or have I lost all feeling in my frozen fingers?

I'm sitting here wondering when all this happened.

Speaking of my domestic activities of late, most have been miserable failures.

The Blueberry Muffins were quite successful, however, they are all gone by now. The Marshmallow Brownies of my own invention were dismal failures, due to being undercooked on the non-marshmallow half and over cooked on the other.

The plans to make dinner tonight fell through when I got lost in my wonderful book.

The power tool adventure went surprisingly well once I realized I had the electric drill on "reverse," Heh.

The attempt to sew has come to a staggering halt when my mother changed the stitch on the serger and I don't know how to turn it back. However, I have great plans and even greater intentions for tomorrow. I have so many plans and I feel as if I'm running out of time. Only two days left.

Also, I have every intention to study for my learners test tomorrow. But we'll see if that will actually happen.

Apparently I'm not as much of a spaz with power tools as I originally thought.

I had a nap, I was warm and cozy and woke up to the smell of my mother reheating the frozen gravy that someone put outside after dinner on Saturday, maybe Sunday.

After the nap I pretended that it was a new day entirely, because I got up at the same time I would have got up assuming I never went to the dentist. Before the nap I had a lovely little cry over the whole dentist experience. Now I'm good. I'm just going to pretend like it never happened.

I made blueberry muffins (my first batch of muffins since I was about five years old) and a batch of brownies with marshmallows in them. They are cooking as I type this, and I can't wait to try them.

Must go check on them.

My morning thus far: Current time 10:24AM.

[8.00AM]
Yells from underneith the very warm, very cozy, very comfortable sheets, blankets, sleeping bags and duvets.
"I'm not getting fluoride!!!! You have to tell them I'm not getting fluoride! Are you going to tell them????"

[9.00AM]
Arrives cold, and defiant, and pissed off like a cat at the vets, at the dentist office only to be informed that one could have come in later what with all the other cancellations. Also is informed that my regular dentist, the nice not sadistic one isn't actually coming in till later.

[9.15ishAM]
Is taken back to the moving chairs and the buzzing, screeching, sucking scratching tools. The nice not sadistic dental hygenist named Kelly pokes and prods and looks very puzzled.Dental Hygenist: "Your wisdom teeth don't seem to be coming in."
Me: "That's because they have already been removed"
D.H.: Oh really! -long pause- Really! When?
Me: Uhhh... last May.
D.H.: Oh okay.
At which time she resumes the poking a prodding and scratching, etc.

[9.30AM] Sit in funky dentist chair [freezing, because of course, like everywhere else, they seem to be having problems with the heating.] waiting for a real dentist to come look at the teeth. Enter Dr. Kovasic, yes, dentist of little social skill.Dr. K: So how's school?
Me: Fine. I have some time off for exams and stuff.
Dr. K: Which exams did you write?
Me: English and Social.
Dr.K: Oh, how'd that go.
Me: Fine.
Dr K.: Examines x-rays for about five minutes. Pokes my teeth with the sharp pokey thing. Examines the x-rays some more. Dr. K to D.H.: We're going to have to freeze her on both sides, so two separate visits I think.
D.H. to Me: We can't freeze your whole bottom jaw at the same time.
Me: Oh. Whatever.
Dr. K.: After some more pondering: Well good luck with your exams.

[9.45AM]
Leaves dentist's office after signing the tremendously expensive bill, considering it was all polishing and poking and prodding and examining x-rays, even more angry, confused and defiant than previously.

"I have no intention of making the appointment for the freezing until someone tells me why it's so necessary."

Just right now, when it became painfully obvious that I need to clean my room I picked up the sheets-and other layers from my bed, all of the clothing strewn from my bed, to my curiously empty laundry basket, the assortment of stuffed animals displaced during today's activities, and thought about all of the wonderful things that I did today.

The many many layers of clothing on my floor grew as I changed for each of the days activities. Craft shirt for the glass grinding this afternoon. I designed a window for one of my teen tiny basement windows in my bedroom yesterday, and today my father and I started building it. Slowly. It's 207 pieces. Which is quite a lot. Most of them are very tiny. It's very pretty so far and I can't wait to show everyone pictures of it. I picked up all the clothes covered in white glass sands, residue from the water and ground bits of glass. Some of it is still under my fingernails.

I have many large colourful, or interesting t-shirts that I've been slowly modifying. Pictures will also come soon. There is the finished ones, crumpled from loving them so much, and wearing them since completion, all on top of one another because it's -44 .C outside with the windchill and all.

I put all of the layers of bed sheets back on to my mattress. Those were ripped off in my haste to film the perfect happy movie. If I can figure out how to get it online you will also see it. Shoes are strewn about the room, discovered under, over, and in between the sleeping bags and puffs, and quilts (seven layers in total.) I stood in the middle of the bedroom floor on a makeshift dance floor, really it's a piece of wood with plastic covering on it. I danced while I filmed it with my lovely digital camera, and I jumped on my bed for a while, which was so much fun I forgot that the camera was on. You should try it sometime. Jumping on your bed. I don't care how old you are, or how expensive your sheets are, it's the most fun I've had in a long time. I danced in all different kinds of shoes, and I lined them up under my bed like a nice little OCD girl. Chucks, Taps, Sneakers, Lovely British Shoes, slippers, Sandals, Pimp Heels... all in a row.

I talked to some lovely people today. I heard some wonderful things. A few people e-mailed me out of the blue, which made my day. Yesterday I talked to my lovely cousin Nicole (Hi!) and I've been bouncing around on that for a while. I miss them all very much. (Emily, expect a call in the very near future, if I can find your number somewhere.) I finally addressed the last of my mail, which probably will never be the last of my mail because I love sending off mail. Again, if you want something I'm your mail whore!

Tomorrow has a lot of promise, which is something I love falling asleep too. When I was little I used to fall asleep while thinking of all the exciting things that would happen the next day. A lot of people argue that things like that never work, and only keep you up longer. I can't explain my child's logic, and now I'm like everyone else, thinking keeps me up at night. I spent most of my day listening to Rilo Kiley. It's possibly the best thing I've "discovered" since The Postal Service "Rilo Kiley is like a musical orgasms." I typed to someone today, and then I giggled, because I said something was an orgasms, which leads to me being a bad girl, and it just sounds so ridiculous to me.

Today was good, very good.

It seems in this day and age of touch typing and send buttons, the English language has been replaced by hyphens, dots, dashes, brackets, catch phrases, and cleverly abbreviated words. The other day I deleted all but five people from my MSN contact list. It shouldn't be that easy to have a conversation with me. I shouldn't have to stand for a little yellow "smiley face" instead of a real emotion. That's not real. I don't want the conversations to start with hey, whats up? or even worse wuz up?

I used to play this game with a friend of mine, we don't talk anymore, she became an insult to my personality. This game, one of us would say the lyric we just heard, or whichever lyric jumped into our heads. Then, the next person would have to think of a lyric that matched one word in the lyric.
For example;
Person 1: "I love rock & roll" - Joan Jett
Person 2: "I am a rock, I am an island" - Simon and Garfunkel
Person 1: "Is it cool on your island?" - Tori Amos
And so on. Back and fourth. I miss that.

I have five remaining people on my MSN list. Nicknames I will instantly click on upon their arrival online, or mine. People who are a delight to talk to. I don't have to put up with the stupidity anymore. It's very liberating. Deleting people who never tell you anything, deleting people who have forgotten the original usage of puncuation.

In short, if you would like to "text to me" via MSN.

Hello.
How's your life going?
I'd love to talk for a while.

Mail

So I'm sitting in the middle of my floor, surrounded by envelopes, papers and various office supplies. I've rummaged through my "MAIL" shoe box, formerly of the ADIDAS variety. I've searched through every note book I've ever owned looking for proper addresses. I'm scoured every e-mail in my in box in a desperate attempt to locate my list of addresses. Finally I find a small pile of post-it-notes in a variety of colors sitting on my desk. Voila... Right under my nose. Now I have piles of needing to be stamped, needing to be addressed and stamped, and needing to be completed then addressed then stamped. Quite a system I have going here. Basically, anyone who I've promised 'zines, postcards, envelopes full of random papers, or other such mail wonders, they will be coming very very soon. If anyone else would like to do a mail trade with me, recieve a 'zine, or would just like to get mail in the near future, e-mail me your address and I'll see what I can do.

I shot all of these in the golf course/school field near my house. It was cold, foggy, I couldn't see 50 feet ahead of me. On a clear day, almost all of these photos would have ugly 80's inspired schools, or fences, or houses. So the photo opportunities were lovely.

It was about 4 o'clock, and I just kind of put on my coat, picked up my camera and walked out the door. I didn't get home till 5:30, and I only went about five blocks from my house, but I wandered around in the golf course, and then I got trapped, cause my exit gate was locked, so I had to go back to the club house, and I found it odd that the pay phone at the club house still worked... it just seemed like I was miles from any other person. Sometimes that's a great feeling.

 

 

Amazing.

She is possibly the single most talented girl I have ever come across.

Look at her photographs. All of them. Every last one of them. They will save you.

Do you ever do something that you know will make you unhappy, but it's something that used to make you happy and while your doing it you pretend that it's the same as it used to be and then it's not and everything the terrible?

I do.

So, it appears that my comments are not working. I'm not going to bother to fix them, at least not right now. If you feel so compelled to comment go to my livejournal and comment, or e-mail me! There is a convenient link at the bottom. I love e-mail!

I get pissed off when people assume the colour of my hair reflects my intelligence. There is no relationship between the colour of my hair and how I act. There never has been, and never will be. I'm going to stop taking stereotypical crap from people who doesn't even begin to know me.

On the plus side I got a really good idea for a t-shirt graphic. It probably already exists, but that's ok.

Hype.

So I was listening to CKUA this morning and they played this awesome new funky Ani song and I jumped up and down, then the DJ started talking about Ani's upcoming tour dates, and it just so happens that she's playing in Banff in April.

I'm going.

Slainte Mhath is also playing on January 31st, for all people not afiliated with the Djembabes, you should go, tickets are super cheap and more than worth it.

Because even I need a moment of vanity.

Music: Dead Disco - Metric

Yesterday someone told me they just didn't see the problem. They were right. So I went with my instinct and now I have a kick ass hair cut:






As you were.

I needed a transformation. This is the beginning. I suppose it will soon take over every part of me. It already has begun and I'm not resisting this time. I'm just being who I am. I don't know who I'll be weeks from now, but I hope you'll still love me.

 

Today I stayed in my room making mixed tapes and studying.
Yes.
Tapes, the kind that are made of chunky plastic.
I listened to euphoric trance techno from my marvellous brother.
I got bored and fed up with the Industrial Revolution and the reign of Napoleon I.
I told my mother I was going for a walk and she asked me to return the DVD my brother rented last night.
"Sure" I said.
I got my coat on and my dyke boots and my woolly rainbow scarf and was headed out the door when she started to put on her coat and her mommy boots and her fleece scarf and she said
"Just a minute I'll go tell your father where we're going" and I didn't know what to say because I didn't want her to come and I didn't want to say anything because she'd take it the wrong way.
So I said nothing and there was my father putting on his boots and his woolly hat because he doesn't wear a scarf. I still didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.
I was out the door and they were behind me and I slid all the way to the video store ignoring their bickering and then arguing and then full out yelling, and I J-walked at an intersection because it's really stupid and no one crosses there anyway, and they stayed on the other side shouting by this point.
They waved their hands at each other in annoyance as I walked away.
They caught up at the store when I turned around, so I walked the other way, silently.
They were loud enough.
I slid down the hill like a skate boarder, but I didn't have a board, all I had were my dyke boots.
They followed, a long way back but I could tell they were there.
Until they were silent.
They were sulking now.
They had stepped on each others last nerve.
I could tell my mother was near tears.
I waited behind the trees and then walked away when they passed.
My father saw me crossing the path in the middle of the foot ball field.
I was somewhere between the goal posts of the soccer nets when he caught up.
'I can't stand your mother you know'
'she's off sulking now'
'I don't understand her.
'Neither do I, I want to say, but I don't say anything, and I keep walking and I listen to Ani playing in my head.
"Tiptoe" I know by heart, each syllable and each note, I listen to it instead of him, I walk away.
I slide down the road, past the alley through the streets until I'm home and obligatory family outing is over and I can go back to Napoleon and conquering the world.

I was sitting beside a man on the train today. He wasn't directly beside me, he was on the seats beside mine. He carried a large blue insulated lunch bag. The kind that young children carry with great grudges to school. I think his name was John, it said JOHN on his lunch bag. It was written in large sloppy capital letters.
He was telling the pretty girl sitting beside him, and correspondingly beside me, all about Ozzy's concert that was coming in 6 weeks and it would be $6.

The man opposite me rolled his eyes and sighed. He has no faith in the imagination.

JOHN went on to tell the entire train about hockey, and how he was going to move to L.A. because he hates all of the "schoolkids" here. I wanted to tell him that there would be "schoolkids" in L.A. Schoolkids are everywhere. Unfortunately. I didn't, of course, for many reasons, one being that I myself am a "schoolkid" and I didn't particularly wish to attract attention to that fact.

The man across from me answered his cell with all poetic judgment of a businessman.
His name was John as well.

Today it was cold, and I wore my skirt and my chucks and I froze while standing at the station.

 

I'm swirling cranberry juice in a wine glass pretending that I am slowly getting smashed. That's what teenagers do right?
Get drunk on friday nights.
Typically not in this fashion, but it's the same really.
Drunk is drunk is drunk.
Which I'm not, because I'm only drinking cranberry juice.
Which while tasting awful is supposed to prevent prostate cancer.
Or something.
Yes I know I don't have a prostate.

I really don't like the side effects of the pills.
I'm thinking about writing a poem.
But I'm not sure.
I remembered my idea that I keep having, which made me happy.
School is almost over for a while.
I'm nervous about the exams.
I suppose I shall spend tomorrow holed up in my room.
I will do everything in my power to procrastinate.
I do not want to study for social.
Social exams are historically just meant to mess up our minds.
I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna.

It's almost over, and I'm sitting here pretending to get drunk in an effort to forget that I don't have black hair and I'm not sullen and sulky and half way to death. Sorry. Maybe if I write a poem I'll be more intelligent.

Introducing the wonderful Woodstock pants. They look a lot better in real life. But here's an idea. Special thanks to my mother who showed me how to do all of this.

  

I have been making an amazingly cool pair of pants. There will definitely be pictures when they are done. As for a hint, Woodstock, the concert not the bird.

I have cleaned off the computer and reduced my brother's and my song collection from 2460 to 1412. Amazing.

I have learned that I have a soft spot for Evanescence. It's actually quite nice once one gets past the screaming song (Wake Me Up Inside.)

I have found that my guilty pleasure is rave music, my brother tells me anyway. It's the pulsing-throbbing-sort of synth-pop but better-rave-kids do drugs to this music-music. Any recommendations?

I ma very tired and I think I'm going on a mission tomorrow. It evolved from, "I'll take the bus to school tomorrow" to "I'll take the bus downtown tomorrow morning and then I'll go to the yummy Vietnamese Noodle House in Bow Valley Square and buy the tempera Chicken and then take the #3 to school for 1 o'clock." We'll see. Everything is subject to change to accommodate the pants making.

Do yourselves a favor and listen to some Eva Cassidy. Even if it's not your thing, you have to admit her voice is amazing.

Today I spent two hours pouring over hypothetical finances.
My brain is mush. However, I am really, really happy.
I am healthy.
I can go to school.
I am slowly figuring things out.
I don't have school tomorrow morning.
I have almost all my work for English and C.A.L.M done for the semester.
I have a pretty Career Portfolio.
I spent half an hour folding my zine into pretty little booklets while listening to Slovo.
I listened to Jann Arden.
I read.
I made little strips of paper with things to do written on them, according to Jess it works.
I laughed for 10 minutes straight, until tears and stomach cramps while watching This Is Wonderland on CBC. It's funny, trust me.
I love Chaos.
Hummm, I wonder...
I love Happiness.
I love love, and good dreams.
I love memory dreams.
I love art.
This is getting long.
I really enjoy the package sitting on my bed, ready for stamps and to be sent off on it's way to Montreal. It looks so cute.

I love you and goodnight.

Last night I had a really good dream, every thing that happened in it was wonderful and unexpected. I adore having dreams like that. I think I'll live in my fantasy world for a while.

Today I didn't leave the couch. I didn't nap either. I watched behind the music all day. It was odd. I now know far more about the music history in general, and specifically Kurt Cobains death, than I ever thought possible.

I love good dreams. A lot.

Umm, so this evening I went crazy with the pictures, new site. Go. Click.

Attention:

I have 10-15 copies of my 'zine. It's very amateur, and very school project. Interesting none the less. If you would like one send me your address. They are free. First come first served type of thing.

That is all.

Except it isn't.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESS!!!!!!

So, man. It's almost ten on the night before my Social 20 written exam. I have not studied one ounce at all. None. Not a tiny bit. I have no idea what I learned before November. Or really much of November too. I probably won't study. I will probably do very badly, but get a good mark anyway. I will probably not learn anything new from this experience. I probably won't study next year either.
Instead I'll sit in front of my computer,
listening to Elliott Smith, and Belle & Sebastian,
and not study,
and read blogs all night,
and not even go to bed early
or do any of my other homework.


I realized last night that there are no rules. There is nothing that can not be challenged with little resistance. So you have to make up your own rules, and live by them, or not, because it's up to you, and you can make your rules and you can change them, or you can not have any rules. There's not a lot we can do, so we just live by our own rules.

I'm going to Africa, or Latin America or Indonesia and I'm going to make a difference to one persons life. That's my rule. I'm throwing all the rest away. I'm breaking the rules that aren't really there. I guess I could say I'm rebelling against history or something obscure like that. But I won't. I'm just listening, and loving, and living.

My nose sounds like a squeaking floor board when I inhale. My lips are dry. I'm getting faster at the alphabet song. My father has made all attempts to piss me off tonight, all of which being marginally successful. As I type he is playing his violin (Home on the Range) I'm going to kill him, seriously.

Tonight on the way home from work I listened to "The Edge of 17" or something like that. That's what I am.

I made a really cool thing for one of my projects but Adobe Illustrator will not let me save it as a JPG. If anyone knows how to fix that please save me. Thanks.

The end.

After a discussion I had too late last night to really take it seriously, this much anyway, I have decided that I am going to move to London, become a photojournalist who is a sculptor on the side. I'm going to love in a tiny one room apartment on the second or third floor and paint the walls dark purple and I'll stay there and sculpt any time I like and then I will die at age 37 from lung related diseases.

Sounds good to me. Really good.

My hair doesn't really know what to do this evening. After getting out of the shower I didn't comb it, or dry it, I just let it do it's thing. Bits are straight, some are ringlets and a few strands of hair are sticking straight up. Silly stuff.

I detest nylons. You have no idea how much. I wore them tonight, for the party that didn't really exist. I wore my pleated plaid skirt and three sweaters. I felt silly and uncomfortable so I changed into my pajama bottoms and hid in my closet. I have resolved to never wear them again... this year at least.

There was talk of dead cats and I almost cried. Only almost. I miss Mitty every day of my life. Sometimes when I'm cleaning I check my brother bed to see if she's sleeping on it before I toss the backpack/books/clothes into a heap. I miss her when I come home to an empty house, and when I sit and read. I miss her when I'm sick and when I go to be at night, even she doesn't say goodnight anymore.

Tomorrow I have been granted an inch and I intend to run a mile.