Intricate.

Halloween is a dangerous hoilday. I just ate a contraband Caramilk bar. Contraband because it will probably cause me to need anti-histimines in three to five minutes.

Today I get an extra hour. Do you know what I could do with an extra hour!!!!

...and while I was walking around the local neighbourhood highschool I was swearing and talking to myself in my head about hating that I am so fucking emotional and I don't even know why or how to stop it but all I know it that I get called Emo more than I get called anything else and I fucking hate that it actualy applies.

I swear a lot when I'm emotional. Which obviously is when I am walking and it's cold and I am alone and neurotic.

I have simply determined that I need to talk to more people.

I've sent so many e-mail this afternoon/evening that I can no longer count them. I've delivered one rather random unexpected and somewhat weird card to the girl down the street. That involved me walking around the block three times while her mother watched me from their kitchen window, and finally just leaving it in the mail box, and then proceeding to walk to the neighbourhood highschool and pretend that I was a good Cathloc student and not a crazy neurotic person who wishes they could mutter to themselves in a different language. Just to be eccentric.

I talked to a boy tonight. He was going to remain nameless but I figured that wouldn't do any good anyway. I talked to Sanford. The one and only. By talk I of course mean on MSN, seeing as how delivering a card nearly caused me to have a stroke. Talking to him makes me both happy and guilty. Guilty because I've been told on numerous occasions that we hate Sanford. But really I like him. He's nice most of the time, and most of the time the person who hates him can't even see me. So screw that I say. However there is still guite a bit of guilt.

I'm tired of being cryptic. Anthony, Sanford is not evil. Sometimes you are not a good person to listen too.

I must go to bed now. Goodnight.

oh man. i don't know what i'm doing, and i don't know what to do next.

communicating is so hard for me lately.

"you are seventeen. being dramatic is second nature."

On that note. I am such a wimp. I can't even put a simple card in a simple mail box. But I claim that I will by the end of today. Which is kind of rediculous if you think about it. The mail doesn't come on Saturday, and the mail has probably already been taken inside from today and so it probably won't be found until Monday. However, I state for the record, as soon as my mother gets home I will go deliver it.

When did I develop this neurotic state of mind?

However it's nearly November, and therefore it is nearly american election time and I have knots in my stomach. I wish I wasn't so invested in this.

Today I went to the public library and signed out a bunch of books about gay rights and politics and gay marrage and whatnot, and I was terrified about signing them out because I'm terrified of stupid people. I've taken to doing this though, going to the downtown library and taking out books that I wouldn't want to sign out from work.

Also November is NaNoWriMo month. I'm not sure if I want to do it or not. On one hand I'm very busy, but on the other hand if I don't try to do it now I probably won't, ever. Also I've been waiting for this forever. However 50,000 words is a lot. What do you think?

November is also the month in which I am going to tell my brother about my "alterntative lifestyle." That's what my mother is calling it. She doesn't mention it much. My father on the other hand love it, which is entirely the opposite response I was expecting from him. He also loves that I play the guitar and use his workshop. But the point is, by the last day of november I am going to be out, at home anyway. I don't think I can be politically silent anymore.

This post has been full of gayness. Hurrah.

So it appears that I am working Saturday morning... one more duck in the long unruly line. I will, very soon, do some work on my art projects and the art blog.

I am having trouble keeping all of my ducks in a row. As you may have noticed there hasn't been much action on the art blog. There will be though. I'm determined.

I am a walking contradiction. I'm aware. I'm also aware that I'm having a breakdown, or a meltdown, or a relapse. Whatever whoever wants to call it tomorrow. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it. I guess I'm just ignoring it and hoping that it goes away. Right now it just feels like this monsterous cloud that hiding behind me. Bah. It'll go away.

I do not want to go to school tomorrow. Primarily because I don't want to have to deal with "the public" the public being for the most part the girl mentioned earlier. So as I see it I have two options:

A. Start to obessively natter about the unacceptable characteristic of the people I hang out with. i.e. their drug dependancy, mental illnesses, their acts of prostitution, witch burning, homosexual qualities, and the fact that on weekends I volunteer with planned parenthood giving teenage girls the option of aborting their babies. (None of which is true but will be made up in the hopes that it will scare her off, also quite unlikely.)

B. Wear a cardboard sign around my neck stating that I have taken a vow of solidarity. i.e. I do not wish to talk to anyone, and I do not wish that anyone talk to me.

I think I will go with plan B, because plan B is more likely to be effictive and would really make me quite happy not to have to interact with anyone during class.

I have realized just recently that I have two amazing people as parents. For that I am grateful.

A girl from school called me this evening while I was eating chocolate french toast and watching Dead Like Me. It disturbed me greatly. The first thing she said was "I'm just calling to make sure you didn't jump off a cliff." I wanted to hang up immediately. Not only had I reluctantly given her my phone number after specifically telling her not to call because we never really answer the phone, but because she actually thinks I would jump off a cliff. She kept telling me that she is glad that I'm alive. It makes me want to scream and break a whole bunch of glass. I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS.

She went on to remind me that I needed to finish our science project and that we have a social thing on Monday.

I didn't make it into school today because the combination of PMS, family affairs and the overall fact that I wouldn't actually learn anything today. I called it my "I suck at everything day." I don't actually suck but it sounded like a good thing to call it.

I miss my fappy. I want to play music with him. He called to ask how to do the whole laundry mat thing. I guess my aunt doesn't do laundry, which wasn't really surprising. What was surprising is that she isn't capable of feeding herself and she has spent most of the time my father has been there sleeping.

I'm scared of the future. Of people. Of telephone confrontations. Of confrontations in general. Food. Doctors. Asthma, AIDS, depression, suicide. Airplanes, elevators, bridges, birds. Being alone, being in crowds, small spaces, space. Failure. Mine and others. Judgement, prejudice, socail suffocation.

There is a paper mache head of frankenstein sitting on the desk beside me. I still haven't made any attempt to talk to Vanessa and I don't know why. Actually, I know why, and you probably know why too.

I really want to clean this place up tomorrow. Hopefully I'll feel up to it. I didn't even make it to the shower today. I miss napping.

"but I was standing in the mosh pit and this girl in front of me kept jumping up and down and hitting me in the head with her pony tail."

This is what my brother said when my mother asked him if he enjoyed the mosh pit. Sheesh. Sometimes that boy is culturally clueless.

The library has had a mouse invasion. They make for a comedic evening. Lucky me, I get another one tonight.

I have such a back log of amazing ideas that I can use for my portfolio, however I have no time to actually carry out any of these ideas.

I am exhausted. I spent four hours on Monday, one hour yesterday and three hours today studying for a social unit final. I feel confident. It would be nice if all that work actually pays off though. I could probably tell you anything you ever wanted to know about 20th Century economics.

I love Metric. I think I might start designing shirts for all of my favorite songs. Even if I never make them it would still be fun. Like back in elementary school music class when the teacher played different styles of music and we had to scribble along to the music. Now thats an education.

Oh, Metric, how I love thee.
Yes, this picture is borrowed from the metric site, from a concert at some other place. I was lame and figured they'd take my camera away. Anthony however brought a camera and I'm hoping that something will turn out. We'll see.

Metric concert in about one hour. You will be pleased to know Emily(cousin) that I have changed three times now, and I have not yet left the house.

I am really excited and I don't even care that I have one quiz and a social unit test tomorrow because I have a plan. Not a very good plan but it's still plausable.

I'm off to idolize Emily Hanes now. Cheerio!

The plan for this evening was carried out fairly closely to the actual plan. Of course, me being me, I forgot to factor in dinner time. I tend to ignore the basics, eating, bathing, sleeping.

In any case. I've done the assigned math homework for quite possibly the first time this semester. I've done significant studying for social studies. I've played "Leaving on a Jet Plane," "Babylon" three different Cranberries songs, "Time of Your Life" and "Mrs.Robinson" will enough skill to be proficient.

Also I have decided to send an anonymous letter -
[okay not so much anonymous and unannounced,]
- to my neighbor who I want to befriend,
again,
because when it comes to friends I'm an idiot and I'm probably the reason that we are no longer really friends.
AND I could use another friend for a grand total of three. My mother would worry less about things like
If she should take me to a "specialist"
and whether or not I'm emotionally stunted due to her insignificant socializing while I was a child.
Truth be told. The first time my mother invited the daughter of one of her friends over I ended up throwing my tupperware Noah's Ark at the friend whom I think was named Alicia. I ended up being friends with her later when we were older and she had forgotten about the bumps she received. She had an old refrigerator and deep freeze in her basement and we were still small enough to climb into the top freezer part of the fridge and then climb all over. You know, I'm not sure if that really happened or not. It seems like something I would have imagined doing as a kid but never really actually did.

I can't remember how I got here, but I think I started out telling you that after consulting nearly everyone I know I have decided to write a note to this girl who lives down the street and plays the guitar and has a CD and ask her if I can buy a CD from her. It's more complicated than that in my head, I'm sure I'm making a bigger deal out of it than is really necessary.

I'll be all stealthy and sneak up to her mailbox while no one's home and it will be incredibly weird but I want to hear her CD and I want to be her friend again. Because as I said before I probably threw something at her when we were ten and she's probably forgotten that by now and maybe she can be my friend again.

God, I sound like I'm eight years old.

Going to bed to read my spin magazine that I've not actually looked at yet I lost it. [In fact, I'm too ashamed to tell you that I lost it under my laundry pile almost immediately after I bought it a few weeks ago and I've just now found it while sorting my clothes.]

My father leaves tomorrow and I'm really proud of him, god forbid I should ever actually tell him. I've also started asking questions, so I've got an idea of what's going on now.

And now at this grand time of 10PM I'm going to bed.
Oooh, Chuck Klosterman.

My father is flying to Toronto tomorrow at noon. In my deluded little girl world he is going to fix everything that is wrong in the world and when he returns all will be right and all will remain right.

Miracles to happen.

And back to the real world:

I am going to put on some music, make something hot to drink then,
A) Do a whole bunch of social homework because I'd really like to have a spare next semester rather than repeating the course.
B) Do a lot of Math homework because while I don't care, it's much easier if I actually do the homework. Also, having good marks keeps the teachers from noticing you.
C) Possibly, if I feel like it, do some Science homework. I have no respect for my science teacher. He would be a perfect banker or auditor.
D) Read the Chuck Klosterman and Dave Eggers articles in the Franz Ferdinand issue of SPIN.
E) Play my guitar because it makes me calm and right now I am not calm. Plus I figure between the SPIN articles and the guitar playing I'll be able to even out the horror of homework and the fun of not doing homework.

The Ani/Indigo Girls version of Tangled Up in Blue by Bob Dylan is awesome.
Metric is Tomorrow. Tomorrow!

Everything is crumbling. I need to stay home today. I can't, obviously. I also can't seem to regain normal consciousness. I'm in a daze, every day I am so low energy I might as well be a sloth. But I always thought it would be hard to hang like that for so long. I guess they have longer claws than I do.

My father may be flying to Toronto tomorrow or Wednesday. My aunt is "sick" and isn't taking care of herself and my cousins don't quite have the same authortative power my father has.

It would be a whole lot better if we actually talked to each other.

reflections of art on her life

As a side note. As part of a class I'm taking at school called Professional Development in the Arts, Yes, it is the coolest class ever, and I adore the people who are making it happen, I have to write weekly journal entries relating to art and what I think about it. It's hard to explain.

I figured since the only journal that I've been able to keep up for longer than a week was my blog I figured the only way I'd be able to do this was if I had some sort of readership. So please, go read it, check back weekly and give me lots of feedback, the more comments/opinions I get the more I will learn from everything I'm doing. A different perspective could change everything and I want to see how far I can go with this.

www.artonherlife.blogspot.com

My fingers are quite sore. There's nothing quite as theraputic as playing instruments. I've been playing my guitar for hours. I still don't know what to name it. I think it's a girl though. If I were to go along with the whold "name it something sexy and then play it like it's sexy because that's the proper way to play a guitar" way, I wouldn't ever be able to play it.

I've been singing too, first Leaving on a Jet Plane, Chantal Kreviazuk style, then Sinead O'Connor then Shawn Colvin, then REM, then Melissa Etheridge then Simon and Garfunkel. I think out of all the songs I played tonight my favorites are Leaving on a Jet Plane, Mrs. Robinson, and No Need to Argue by the Cranberries. No Need to Argue is simple but pretty. Singing along to it makes me feel somewhat proficent, which I assure you I'm not.

I think I'm going to let the real Simon and Garfunkel take over on my little record player while I clean my room and then play some more. I adore my guitar, can you tell?

It's all talk

Sometimes I get so wraped up in the need to keep conversation moving that I begin to say things that I don't want said. I end up halting mid word and using the phrase "no comment" for the rest of the conversation.

I think I may be mute next week.

Tomorrow is picture day. Uugh. We're not even buying pictures this year. I've miraculously found something to wear in my messy birds nest hair, so as I don't look like a crack addict tomorrow. Or at least I will try too. Today I must have appeared to be in a coma or something. I'm having a really hard time keeping my eyes open lately. Falling asleep during tv shows, going to bed early. sluggish in class. Right now my eye lids simply feel swollen and so I think rather than giving you a detailed list of all the stuff on my mind right now, I think I'll go to sleep.

I'm not riding the number four bus anymore. There's a new driver this year. He's an asshole. He has road rage. I don't feel safe being in his bus. He is not the type of person I want to have any contact with.

The local public tansit department will be recieving a raging yet tasteful letter.

I'm done with this.

If only you could hear my emotions...

...maybe you could tell me how I feel.

Things nose dive so fast.
Things change and stay the same.


Sometimes something suck, and some things don't, and you don't know how to feel because you want to feel happy about one thing and sad about another and so you don't know how to feel.

I forced myself to walk about the block tonight, I was going crazy thinking about all my art stuff. Things get so complicated.

Emotions are complicated.

Mixing the two is nearly impossible.

I really miss my grandparents today, and everthing I don't know about them.

I'm really into this "art" thing. I've been thinking and dreaming art all weekend. It's fabulous. Eventually there will be hard evidence of this.

I'm also trying to get past the thoughts of quitting my job just so I can have every night free to work on my stuff.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in Canada!
(If you're not in canada, happy monday!)

Every time I go to the library I get a pocketfull of ideas, I bring home an arm load of books and then stay up all night reading. I really want to play around on a potters wheel again. I want to get started on all of my ideas. I need to buy a notebook and pencils and go on holiday with my family this weekend, and quit failing important tests.

This rush of ideas certainly makes up for the past three month hiatus my mind took. I've got the artsy part back on course, now if only I could do something about that silly academic bit.

I want to play my guitar.

Post Script: Want to know a secret? I'm going to try to build a drum. But shhhh! Don't tell anyone!

"I ran beside him along the shore, with pop-cans tied to a string, flying like a kite behind me, that was a good way to say goodbye to a boy."

Today was a Bad Day. I'm not sure if it helped or not that I spent most of my free work time listening to the Wailin' Jenny's. They are awesome, but they are very melancoly.

I was very frustrated today. Two of my teachers are horrible these days. On, my math teacher skips VERY IMPORTANT steps and then quizzes us on things we have not learned yet. It is yet to be see if we will ever actually learn any of it. My science teacher is one of those "I'm going to let the internet teach you." types and he assigns internet projects with sketchy, if at all, requirements and then two weeks later he checks them and finds that we did not do what he asked us to do so "There will be a quiz tomorrow."

We are going away this weekend and I just found out. I was planning on dedicating the weekend to my sculpture class, I guess I'll just do a bunch of drawings. I'm making all of the projects around the theme of trees. Sounds good doesn't it? There will probably be pictures as per usual.

In otherwords, I need to chill.

"Joyful noise can't be made without a little terror."
~Kim Barlow, Steamroll Me Jimmy

Today has been a crying day, and I don't know why. I miss my family, and I don't know who they are or where that is.

It makes things so much better when I have a project, such as an art project, and it seems like a horrible thing to have to do, as art projects tend to seem, and then I get an excellent idea, and it makes it all so much better.

I am inspired a lot lately.

Today was swanky. I feel as if i'm living in the land of the eternally hungry.
Kim Barlow's song Fairy Wings fits me like a glove.

I think I am going to redirect my focus and dedicate myself to a life in music.

Oh Boy. What an awesome amazing fantastic unexpected weekend. Life is good.

I am having another amazing day. I ran away this morning to the Palliser and spent a while there, then I went and bought music, and then I went back and Ann Vriend said hi to me and told me to go to the song writing workshop. So I did, and then I met a whole bunch more amazing people.

From now on, I'm going to be totally upbeat, involved, happy. Screw being tired and bored. I'm fucking alive aren't I?

Wicked day. Interesting story involing, me, Ann Vriend, Kim Barlow and a washroom. Ask me about it.

I think tomorrow I will go hang out at the Palliser because I have nothing else to do and I like the people watching. Today I met a Swedish talent rep. His name was Alf Olafson. Awesome huh? Even better is that he was in a punk band in London in 1979. He walked up to me and asked me questions I couldn't possibly answer unless I knew everything, and then he started talking to me about Calgary and music and stuff. It was quite the experience.

We missed the jam session, we spent 20 minutes trying to park, spent three dollars for time we didn't use, and arrived a good two hours before anyone else would show up. We ended up leaving before anyone got there because my father is an old fart.

I like this. I think from now on I'm going to get involved in everything I can. Join me anyone?

I spent from 11 till 5 today standing and helping people from all over the world. Amazing, really.

Tonights Agenda:

Shower,
Eat,
7.00PM Folk Fest Volunteer Party
10.00PM Ironwood Bar & Grill to see Mae Moore and Lester Quitzau.
12.00AM Palliser Jam session
Home

Sheesh, this should be fun.

Another awesome day. Expect changes to the links and whatnot soon. Life is crazy busy and I love it.

Love.

I am ready to write poetry again. I feel fairly confident that I can write quality poems, not sappy, not suicidal, not twelve year old teen angst. I think I can get inside myself without the obessions I developed before. Here's to hoping it will all go well.

I over dramatize far too much.