yahweh

between the twenty-seven people that managed to make it to religion class, the banana and yogurt combo i had for breakfast, the circling helicoptors, five thousand people and candles, burning my mittens, manchu wok, cardboard signs that read "peace out, motherfuckers!" and the riot police-

i have to say that overall it was a pretty good day.

snap back to reality

reason number six hundred and eight three that i am certifiably a weirdo:

this morning robin greeted me with a miniature coffee cake with a dollop of hard caramel on top. because i had just brushed my teeth, i slipped it into my coat pocket for later consumption. read: during the break in latin class. however, i promptly and swiftly forgot about said bite of sweetness and only remembered as i stepped from the class room at the end of the class.

"woah!" i exclaim, holding the cake in my hands. "manna from my pocket!"

that's not what makes me a weirdo though. [ok, well maybe. but it's the perception people have of me as weird that i'm talking about here. besdies, it's not that weird to have food in your pocket, is it?] you see, our latin classroom is in the same wing of paterson hall as most of the offices for my professot. infact, macisaac's door is directly across from the door to our classroom. seeing me pull the cake from my pocket caused his face to erupt in a look of consternation and slight confusion, but when i started eating it, mumbling about pocket food, he looked at me as if i were possibly some sort of foreign entity.

i think maybe next week i'll try pocket cheese or something and see what happens. heh. weirdo.

come up to meet you

man, sometimes my majesty even astounds myself.

i know, that sounds so self serving. you're picturing me reclining on some couch being gently fanned with massive feathers and being fed grapes by wolverine and aragorn, aren't you? well- my majesty isn't such...yet. but in the mean time, i've impressed myself.

yesterday i pumped it out and produced the aristotle essay in a mere four hours. [read: super quick for megs, the slowest essay writer ever]. anyways, i went down to leslie's for dinner, which was actually a full scale turkey meal. like- random turkey dinner might possibly be the happiest thing ever. anyways, after such a massive good meal i woke up with a jonsing for mom-food.

i'm not a mom, so i can't make mom food....or so i thought.

tonight i made stew. yeah- carrots and beef and celery and potatos and thick broth/gravy stew. i even made biscuits [as in tea, not the british kind] to eat with the stew, and they were warm when we ate the stew.

i told you i was majestic.

[now, i wonder what i have to do to get that whole feather breeze and grapes from wolverine and aragorn thing going on?]

if we weren't so alike you'd like me a whole lot more

my shoes squeak through the snow as i pass the car that is slowly turning around on the closed road. just as i walk across the harsh headlights, the horn blares out and a voice yells at me out of the passenger window.

"hey honnnneeeeeyyyy strut your stuff!" i don't respond. this obviously is damaging to male passenger's ego, and he decides that he must show his dominance through more words aimed at me. "c'mon you fucking slut....whore....BITCH!" he ends with a yell as the car speeds away.

i'm tempted to turn around and give him the finger. ah yes, the international sign for fuck you. i'm about to do it, a smile curving my lips, when i realize that i'm wearing mittens and that it would just look like i was batting away some imagined bug or something.

damn.

oh you look so beautiful tonight

hair swept across my face, i man-handle the broom, pretending it's a microphone stand. my left hand moves to the rhythm of the music and i belt out the words of the song, eyes screwed shut, and horribly, horribly HORRIBLY off key, out of tune etc. etc. etc. [i'm honestly your worst nightmare when it comes to singing. no. really. really really].

it's only when i hear a stifled bit of male laughter do i remember that our door is propped open and that you can see directly into my room from the hall.

score one for being suave with the menfolk.

i'm not easy on my knees

as is quite apparent, i have a... thing for u2.

we're not talking a passing admiration, or a few cds. i mean a i-will-clamour-on-my-hands-and-knees-through-broken-glass-for-melon kind of thing. [if you don't know what melon is, don't worry, it's ok. just know it's u2-related and precious, savvy?]

today marks the north american relase of their eleventh studio album. the reviews have been all over the board- it's the best, it's ok, it's sentimental crap, it's just plain crap, it's poetry, it's a guitar album, it's the most christian album... blah blah blah.

a few weeks ago the album leaked out online and i have to admit that i downloaded some of the songs. like, four of them. some of them made me want to cheer because i loved them so much. and some of them i hated when i first heard them. [especially all because of you]. all of them eventually made me dance with no pants on around my room because i of course ended up loving each pirated song.

i went and got my official copy of how to dismantle an atomic bomb tonight. [not the boxed set mind- i asked for that for christmas, but i did buy the edition of the regular album with the dvd. c'mon, some video footage? i'm so there.]

anyways- i've listened to it once fully.

it's a grower, but it doesn't disappoint. not at all.

and it's you when i look in the mirror

i'm hiding in my bed.

when i was little, i used to hide in my bed a lot. sometimes it was from my siblings. sometimes it was from my dad. sometimes it was from the monsters i just knew were in the closet. sometimes it was not really hiding, it was just me, in my bed.

i spent a good three hours in my bed today. my feet, clad in their socks, rustled strangely in the sheets. my shirt rasped when it came in contact with the heavy and ugly pink wool blanket that hides under my bedspread. the clips in my hair dug into the back of my head, biting at my scalp. the air was warm and stuffy. [i had the blankets over my head, in case you were wondering].

i'm not sure what i was hiding from this time. regardless, after three hours of immersion in my thoughts and hiding under three blankets, i emerge like some creature from the swamp and finally decide to maybe eat something.

"umm..wasn't class supposed to happen in there somewhere mate?" ah yes. the vox makes a valid and quite important point. class. that dirty five lettered word that i just couldn't physically get out of my bed for. i'm going to hell. turn the flames up a little higher.

after a meal of chicken, rice, pepper and celery [meh] i plop down with aristotle. but i'm distracted. i'm in bed again, and slowly, i begin to sneak my way under the covers again. i feel the suction of that stuffy nothingness begging to be explored.

luckily, right at that moment, anna comes dashing in and needs relationship help. yet another man is quite enamoured with her [she's a fox- a stone cold fox i tell you!] but alas for him, he's just a friend to her.

"tell him your friendship with him is too precious to risk, to lose even." i suggest when she asks for advice. she heads back to her room. "or maybe tell him that dity four letter word to him. you know- kyle!" i call after her.

she yells back that i'm an evvvviiilllllll person, and the first true laugh of the day escapes me.

i told you tomorrow would be better.

sweetheart you're so cruel

when my eyes crack open, i can tell immediately it's going to be one of those days.

sometimes, i don't want to see the world. sometimes, i want to hole up in my bed with my battered copy of lord of the rings, stick achtung baby on repeat, eat random crunchy foods and have absolutely zero contact with the human race. i don't want to talk to people, i don't want to pretend to be interested and i most certainly don't want to be involved with any activity that involves effort-ing. [i know that's not a word, but suck it up, ok?]

here's my apology in advance if i see you and you feel as if your soul has been shrivelled and that you've perhaps met satan incarnated, because i always force myself out and about.

spread the joy.

[don't worry- i'll feel better tommorrow.]

we get to share it

amazing food discover ninety seventy point six nine eight four version three: when desperate for a sweet fix, yet trying desperately to stay away from that damning evil temptation known to mankind as chocolate, place sunflower seeds and almonds in a mug, smother with honey and mash together. enjoy with a spoon.

so tasty.

what else do i have to say

somewhere in my internet procrastinations between reading book VI and book X of the nicomachean ethics by aristotle, i ended up at wil wheaton's website.

i pray to all the sweet deities above that none of you know who wil is. and if you do, i'll give you money to keep quiet. silent. saying nothing about the whole thing. making no reference to anything he was involved with, barring that project with river phoenix, corey feldman and jerry o'connell.

[saying that i actually looked around the web site would incriminate me more, wouldn't it?]

i didn't give anyone else a choice

"that's right be-yotch!" i yell at the screen. "pump it out!" i watch intently, and the yell again. "NO! NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?"

the sound of laughter drifts from ashley's room. she comes into caitlin's room, where i'm perched on her bed, staring intently at the the small television screen, critiquing u2's performance on SNL.

her face solemn, she tells me that my yelling was quite full of innuendo.

i'm about to come back with a response about irish sausage or some such nonsense when i'm distracted by the images on the screen. i notice bono's jacket in particular. on the pocket flap is gold embroidered letters and numbers that spell out Est. 1979.

class. HIGH class. and terribly amusing.

is it tuesday yet?

i'm not broke but you can see the cracks

anna dashed into my room, holding her sides and laughing. i'm perched at my computer, tucked into my chair, wasting time on the internet, thinking about sleep.

"meaghan- brendean had this dream! he dreamt.." she stops to giggle. "he dreamt that my bed was cut in half and he couldn't move and that someone told him they lost their underpants!"

after robin left last night, i was going to go to sleep. really. instead, i stayed up late, yelling at the television and eating nuts. i also kept pestering anna and ashley, asking them in strange voices if they liked bananas and telling them that i had lost my underpants.

[i didn't really lose my underpants, just for clairification.]

apparently, my weird voice and nut eating frightened brenden in his sleepy state. poor confused boy.

with the stars as her umbrella

today and tonight were adventures.

wait a miniute. it's almost two am on sunday morning officially and i'm still not sleeping. this is the reason why i never get anything done. i fuck up my sleep schedule royally with one night of sleeplessness and then it all goes to hell. which is bad news because i have a paper. so instead- i'll leave you with a few key things i've learned and then then maybe expand on them.

anna saw squirrles mating in the experimental farm yesterday. brenden is impressionable while he's napping, especially when i say things in weird voices about underpants. bono likes to give lap dances. kate has a boyfriend/beau/man to jump kinda-sorta. my professor sometimes has a hip flask of jack daniels on him. my room is very interesting. jamiroquai- awesomeness. [why do i always forget about this music?]. sidekick robin won a gold medal at a provincial level for guarding [i think, man i need to remember details better] when she had a massively bad sinus infection. and finally, pitachios really are god's gift to everyone who can enjoy them without keeling over. [why did i not eat pistachios all summer? WHY?].

that is all. i'll be in bed sleeping if you need me.

we'll spend the night together, wake up and live forever

emily looks at me gesticulating in a clear manner for me to stop. "your laugh is KILLING me!" she manages to gasp out after a few minutes.

last night i left campus [second time in one week- this might be a record for the month of november people!] to go and see garden state and napoleon dynamite at the mayfair, this awesome theatre down the road that shows double bills for the low low price of nine dollars.

the movies were simply fantastic. like, fantastic to the point where they moved me behind my cockles and a little to the right. my sides were hurting this morning when i woke up because i laughed so much. i can't emphasize how majestic these films were- if you can go and see them, do it, as i can guarantee you'll not regret it. [a little product pimping. oh yeah.]

in other news, i'm convinced that professor macissaac thinks there's something horribly worng with me and that i am possibly mentally instable after my impression of a godzilla-like monster [complete with hands as claws and loud arrrgghhh noises] meets an opera singer in front of him the other day.

[the opera singer parts stems from the fact that i discovered that there's a film adaption of andrew lloyd webber's phantom of the opera coming out at christmas. would i be showing my geek too much if i professed my extreme excitment over this? when i went to see the production in toronto in grade seven it made me cry. yeah. i loved it that much. sssshh- i can hear you all ridiculing me from here- JUST BECAUSE A CHANDELIER MADE ME CRY! bah.]

beans and cornbread

last night i threw a fit over a plastic bag.

no, really. we keep the excess bags from our shopping trips under our kitchen sink. the thing is, we don't really use these bags for anything. they just sort of pile up. i recycle mine now, and have been doing so for a few weeks but there's still a plethora of them under the sink.

last night i went to throw something out and was greeted upon opening the cupboard with a mass of plastic bags. they weren't even contained in the larger bag we keep for the other bags. in additon, they were [some of them] covered with garbage slime. i have to say that i was almost as disgusted as i was with the whole rotten fish incident. so i fumed and yelled at no one [because everyone was gone] and had one of thsoe comical moments where every gesture is overdrawn. to make matters worse, i was dealing with light weight plastic, so the overdrawn gestures were compounded by the ease with which said platic moved through the air while i slashed at it.

eventually i started laughing at myself and just threw out the lot of bags that were covered with garbage.

ten to one there'll be a massive demand for bags in the next two days. any one want to make a bet?

little sister, don't you worry about a thing today

three things made my life today.

number one: extremely good coffee this morning. i stumbled from my room, waving at anna and asked ashley if i could use her coffee, because i thought i had none left. [i did, but i used hers anyways because i honestly thought at that point i didn't. the discovery of my own coffee came when i told ahely that i had lost my nuts. soup nearly came out of her nose. heh]. anyways, the resulting mug of coffee i had before stumbling off to class was so good. like, so so SO good it's not even describable. maybe i have a problem with caffeine?

number two: my hot hot hot pink leggings. really. they made my day. but it was kind of freaky having people stare at my legs incessantly. and i was also told that my fashion looked un-coordinated, but whatever. i love them and think that the purchase of more wildly coloured tights is in the near future.

number three: the affirmation that i'm a solid B student this year. last year, i was all cool because i was the solid A- girl, but i dropped my expectations [and thus lowered my stress levels tenfold] and have realized that B is good. it's not the best, but it's still good.

[right?]

anyways, tonight is shopping night, but first i have to clean up my room because really, it's starting to gross me out. and that's bad news man, because it takes a lot to gross me out. [i think the ultimate gross out was that time i stuck my arm into a vacpac bag in the fish shop that had rotten fish in it. i couldn't get the smell off of my arm for two days. ewww. thinking about it makes me feel ill. have you ever really smelled a rotten fish? like, really smelled it? and how about having your arm covered in fish flesh that has broken down into slime? yeah. i TOLD you it takes a lot to gross me out].

why does god cause things like tornados and train wrecks?

the car is in the left hand lane, reduced to half it's regular size judging by the amount of twisted metal and glass that are sprayed across the tarmac. the man standing beside it is talking to a woman, his colour high, and vomiting about every three seconds. someone else is helping a person crawl out from the twisted mass.

the traffic crawls slowly past. there's no official here yet, save one undercover police car. things are, for lack of a more coherent word- frenzied. but under control.

i don't stop. my van has no hazard lights and there's already seven or eight cars pulled to the side of the road anyways. people are on cell phones, people are taking care of each other.

i wonder if somtimes it's dumb blind luck that allows people to walk away from things like that, or if there's something more. usually i'm forced to believe it's something more, because dumb blind luck doesn't have much over twisted metal and unforgiving tarmac.

now is the time to follow through, to read the signs

the man to my right taps along with the music blaring out of the speakers behind us as i slowly stroll the length of the wall, taking in all of the artwork.

"do you have any tattoos?" his voice interjects into my silent reflections of the badness of one particular sheet that is covered with images for jesus-related tattoos.

"i'm sorry?" i respond, not quite hearing over the music.

he gestures at the wall, and then at his arm. "TATTOOS. do you have any?" i nod my head to the negative, and he pullls out a photo album full of work that his boss has done.

i realized recently that i haven't been off campus in more then four weeks except to buy food and to see kate for lost on wednesday nights. so when tuesday turned to me in the middle of reason and rev yesterday and told me that we needed to go shopping, i completely agreed with her. after getting some vegetables at the fresh fruit company, i met up with her in the hums lounge and we hopped on the number seven to go downtown.

tuseday needed a new nose ring, so stop number one was the tattoo shop right beside the rideau centre. once she had it put in, we went searching for stockings. there's a store in the mall that is entirely for leggings. flashy, fashinable and extremely overpriced leggings. i abandonded all thoughts of purchase when i saw the prices. i mean, twenty six dollars for stockings? my god- i could buy two cds for that price!

instead, we went to sears where i found hot hot hot pink leggings for twelve dollars. i also picked up some vertically stripped one and a more fashinable and subtle green and grey pair.

so now, not only do i carry a sock monkey around in my purse, but i also dash around campus in hot pink leggings. i think i might be on to something here.

catch you by the heel

my sister went on this sock momkey making craze two summers ago. there were bits of sock and thread and stuffing all over her room. embroidery floss was at an all time high for demand since the friendship bracelet craze we both went through back in the mid nineties. the results, however, were entirely worth it.

kelly's first sock monkey became a favourite of mine. his name was dooey [because he looked like dooey from malcolm in the middle, big ears and all] and me and him, well. we became pretty good pals. i would sneak into to kelly's room and "borrow" dooey all the time. we'd hang out in my room, read books, maybe do some blind contour and listen to music. however, kelly always stole dooey back because he was, after all, hers.

[let me interject my wonderful story here for a moment- yes. you read right. this was two years ago. and i was hanging out with a stuffed toy. shove it ok? i've always had what is referred to as a powerful inner world.... i realize that this should not justify my hanging out with a sock monkey, but...well. whatever. why am i even bothering to justify my actions? oh right- pride. well, i'm not too concerned about what you think about me and my sock monkey. emphasis on the too].

anyways, when i went off to school, kelly slipped dooey into my things and officially gave him to me. it was a difficult thing to do, though, because he was her very first sock creation.

so i've decided to take pictures of the sock monkey all over campus and all over ottawa and mail her the pictures. i think i need to realize though, that all of my pride will be destroyed because how is is not possible to laugh at a uni student snapping photos of a sock monkey?

carrying him everywhere in my purse doesn't help either.

take my hand, you know i'll be there

i returned to the place where it all began tonight [read: fourth stormont] to deliver a taped roman civ lecture and a handout pertaining to the exam that's on a SATURDAY [what kind of world do we live in where exams are on a saturday?] to faara.

strangely, she lives in the room that adjoined mine and kate's last year. [home of scary caitlin who would lock us out of the bathroom in order to have sex with her boyfriend. i never really understood why she had to lock OUR bathroom door, i mean, what, were we going somehow use it to unlock her door?] anyways, i of course just walked in like nobody's business and instantly relived many majestic moments from first year. the manwall, the coffee-maker soup, don jean the french mexican, all nighters [almost] in november, movies, pistachios, craning and bobby.

bobby lived in the room below ours. bobby was pretty popular with the ladies and really enjoyed smoking weed. on some occasions, music from bobby [it was usually darude] would drift up to our room at three am and we'd have to counter with something horribly embarassing, like wild cherry or patrick swayze. on other occasions we'd hear troupes of ladies stumbling down on the ground, ending with a general chorus of "BOBBBBBBBBBBBBBYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" and girlish giggling.

thank god no one had to live above kate and i. that would have been a nightmare.

however, i wonder how the neighbours in leeds are fairing both above and below [now that i know one, sort of]. i can imagine it now- random thuds when i fall over for no reason other than to do it. chair scraping noises at weird hours. strange bass lines that match christina aguilera songs. if our door were open and sound could travel exceptionally well, you'd hear random curses, the biggest hodgepodge of music ever, vegetables being chopped and random animal combination noises.

we must sound like an insane asylum. go us!

you're making rain and you're just in reach

anna glides around the kitchen in her monkey pants, moving like a ballerina. her glasses are precariously perched on her nose. ashley holds a cup and drifts from the couch to the sink, forgetting her purpose. her hand drifts across her face in a sign of confusion. she frowns at her cup, places it on the counter, picks it back up and returns to the couch, laughing at herself. caitlin is in her room, tense yet still, typing madly. and me, i'm on the floor, chewing my already decimated plastic pencil, attempting to keep all tenses in my essay active and to make certain words agree with other words.

this reminds me of home. everyone is in their own world, but we're all a part of this little unit in four fifteen. it's calm. it's serene. it's a bit messy and it's entirely comfortable.

however, this serenity all goes down the pan when i have an exorcist moment and start voicing profanities about mothers in hell.

someday this constant disruption of peace will come back to haunt me. i know it.

hiding in the dark, hiding in the street

robin slides dangerously to the left on her ball and i curl into the fetal position, balanced on my knees, unable to keep looking at the highly entertaining picture that fills the computer screen in front of us.

"look!" robin gasps, her hand flying unceremoniously towards the screen, laughter dancing in every word. "where's the water coming from?"

after working all weekend on the roman civ essay which was affirmed by robin to be entirely boring, it was edited majestically and then tossed aside from some quality music and picture hunting. after our xmen night, it seems robin and i have a wee bit of an obsession on hugh jackman.

[i still maintain that he needed to take his shit off more often, but the tank top was still good. pardon me whill i drool over collarbones and shoulders for a while. errrmm...what was i saying? no really. what was i saying? oh..... yeah.]

the picture in general was an awful photoshopped deal wherein someone had taken this really funky picture of a man on a beach and added hugh jackman's head to the equation. problem was, the head was a little too small and there was far too much random computer generated water splashing everywhere. hysterics ensued after careful examination of this traversty.

anyways, we have decided that we're going to have a hugh jackman marathon.

somehow, i have the feeling that i'm going to be suckered into watching van helsing again. i'm shaking with thoughts of how bad it's going to be, but we all know that as soon as trustworthy one-liner hugh exclaims who's hunting whom? i'll be sucked in, memeorizing other lines in order to feed my scattered trove of collected movie lines.

have i mentioned that i was dorky before dork was cool?

losing love to find romance

i had something to say, really i did.

i was sitting here, watching the steam curl off of the top of my coffe, listening to pilfered new u2 [i'm evil] and kate bush, admiring the sun glaring off of the trees outside of my window and i wanted to say something.

apparently, though, my youth-alzheimers has kicked in, because i'll be arsed if i can remember what exactly it was i was thinking about.

meh.

comfort me with apples, for i am sick of love

although i should be working on the killer archaic roman law essay, i'm distracted by three very distinct thoughts running around in my head.

number one: i love kate bush. i mean really, i love her. i don't know her and i'm not sure how this is possible, but her music makes me want to throw up from sheer overwhelming joy sometimes. it's exactly and all i want to listen to right now. i've even tossed morrissey out of the cd player in favour of good old kate. and [now here there need to be an audible intake of breath, savvy?] even u2 is getting shoved aside. that really ought to say something.

number two: there was a naked man in my kitchen on friday morning. yep. naked. in the buff. in the nuddy-pants. in his birthday suit. [how many ways can i say it?] naked. don't even ask.

number three: the name for a group of cats is clowder. no, seriously. you know how a flock of crows isn't a flock, but a murder? and how a flock of geese is a gaggle? and a bunch of goldfinch are a charm? well a flock of cats, if you will, is called a clowder.

so here i am, thinking about roman law, naked men, and a clowder of cats while listening to kate bush.

a day in the life.

i know you have a little life in you yet

i leave a message on kate's phone, wishing her well. my sentences come across as fragmented and not entirely whole, and she tells me to go to bed damnit, when i call her back after she calls me back again.

my hair drips on the carpet as i towel it off. when i go outside the ends of it go almost crunchy. after an hour and a half, i find some pertinant books, come home, and do nothing until i call home.

kelly's voice slides down the line at me as she pours out all those little bits of news that you miss when you don't speak everyday. she tells me that she and ayshia want to have an art show at her student gallery entitled we totally rule. in it, she wants to have a giant pompom and a squirrel statue made out of rice krispies. pinchy the sock lobster will have a series of pictures displaed and the food they plan to serve at the opening sounds like it will be disgusting. i can see kelly's face as she giggles impishly, that little hint of sarcasim sneaking into her demeanour. i laugh and then the phone passes to my brother. we barely get satrted before it's time for dinner.

i ring off.

i should have listened to my heart and just hopped in the van on thursday and driven home without telling anyone. instead i've downloaded some key kate bush songs and am sitting here feeling slightly melancholy, missing my family.

it's slightly disproportionate though, you see. they only have to miss me, but i have to miss all of them. so i think perhaps i'm allowed a bit of self-indulgant-almond-eating-sad-bastard-song-listening even though it's nearly midnight.

to hear the things you haven't said

hugh jackman, hair swept into two swooshes that look somehwat like ears, leaps across the screen with a majestic AAARRRGGGGHHHHOOOOOGGG! and knives the bad guys with super suave moves. robin and i split a gut laughing at the badness [yet secret goodness] of it all.

yesterday was the end of the week of heliishness so robin and i made plans to watch xmen. not the most classy of movies, but sometimes you just want to watch shit blow up or well built men run around delivering really bad one liners.

[you know, i think that van helsing would be the embodiment of this. hugh jackman running around looking all hot and killing things and stuff blowing up. however, since it's the worst movie EVER, there was no way in hell that i was going to watch it, so xmen was the choice of the evening. besides, it has fagneto- oops, i mean magneto, my old man boyfriend.]

i have to say, i'd totally own the xmen movies after watching that one again. pure bad joy. i love it.

now- to the library batman! i so need to wash my hair.

until you've seen the stars reflect in the resevoirs

i'm walking towards the exit of the grocery store when i see the most stunning looking lady ever. you know, one of tose people who regardless of your sex or theirs you can fully admire and admit to being beautiful.

she's close to six feet tall, wearing a woolen scarf wrapped around her throat to fight off the chill wind. there's a leather jacket on her wide shoulders, left open, revealing a brightly coloured shirt. sliver gleams from her ears and her fingers. she's wearing very fashionable jeans and pointy boots that click when she walks.

she approaches a cashier-ess who squeals with absolute delight, reaches out, and grabs the stunning looking lady's breats and give them a good squeeze.

"look at you!" the cahier-ess squeaks, her smile a mile wide, still poking the breats of stunning-lady. stunning lady appears non-plussed by the breast grabage, although there's an old lady who i think is about to keel over watching from two lanes down with a horrified look on her face. "they look FANTASTIC!" the cashier-ess finally takes her hands off of the breasts of stunning-lady.

stunning-lady finally speaks- "it took a long time to make them even."

yeah, maybe it should have been obvious, but stunning-lady should have been called stunning-manlady in order to most accurately describe her.

and at the fall of night this city's made of lights

professor beer drops the f-bomb and i'm startled out of my reverie invlovling achilles, spears and tea biscuits.

i don't know what it is that is so highly entertaining about a professor saying fuck. i mean really, it's just a word. it can be used in almost any sense you need it to, granted. but it's still just a word. maybe it's because it's still taboo in society, and professors are supposed to be upright moral people?

in other random news, my brother informs me that he's now the proud owner of records by groups that include sharks, justin clayton, the colour fields, the bible and canadian zephyr.

some day i'll be in a band with a cool name like one of those.

i won't be allowed to sing naturally, because of the legions of people i might kill. but i'll still be in the band. oh yeah.

i don't know if i'm closer to heaven, but it looks like hell down there

cleaning my room ended up taking two hours.

you see, i have what freud would call an oral fixation. [that's right, i like putting things in my mouth..har har insert dirty joke here and laugh at the fact that i said insert]. anyways, this means that i'm one of those people who constantly chews gum, bites her nails/sides of her fingers, chews on her pens. you know, the person in the exam room that you wanted to throw stuff at because of the constant gnawing noises eminating from her space?

while writing my religion paper, i fully re-discovered the joy of satled sunflower seeds. the ones in the shells mind, that involve putting them in your mouth, cracking open the shell with your teeth and extracting the seed with your tongue, and then pulling the shell out of your mouth again. now, i had this same joy last year, i'd just forgotten about it for the summer months. so, while writing my paper i ate an obscene amount of salted sunflower seeds. i mean an obscene amount.

needless to say, there were sunflower seeds EVERYWHERE in my room.

no dress rehersal, this is our life

i can say with utter and absolute glee that i'm officially finished. no more jesus, no more mark, no more eschatology, no more symbolic coming of the kingdom embodied through suffering. no more essay.

well, till thursday when i have to start the roman civ one. damn.

even if things end up a bit too heavy

i feel that my fashion statement of the day should be recoreded for future shame.

dashing off to latin, my not-washed-in-three-days-and-hence-kinda-gross hair is held loosely in a gaudy clip. no time for contacts means i'm wearing glasses, accesorized nicely by the bags underneath my eyes accumalted by a series of late nights. zero makeup.

[wait a minute, even if i ever bother with make up it's always neutral/beige tones, and if i'm feeling risky lip balm WITH FLAVOUR- so this really isn't notable.]

anyways- despite the fact that it's snowing, i forego the wearing of a coat for the classic and much loved green hoodie sweater from old navy, accentuated by jeans that need laundering, a plaid shirt, mittens stolen from kate last year and a brightly multi-coloured scarf

i've saved the best for last though- on my feet are socks that don't match and my trusty birkenstock sandals.

one word for you: HAWT.

we get some rules to follow

robin and i finish almost simultaneously, our pens scratching lines of correction and suggestions across the pages of the most horrible essay ever assigned to student-kind.

twenty minutes later she's returned to her room, and i'm in the kitchen, attemping to vocalize what exactly it would sound like if you were to cross a mule or a donkey with a chicken.

shouldn't i be studying for latin tomorrow?

the damage is done

after pondering for more than a few minutes, idly eating sunflower seeds, i reconcile myself to the truth. the disgusting, horrible and slightly horrific truth.

i didn't make it outside at all today.

next exit

"HELL!" i yell. "I'M GOING TO HEEEEEEELLLLLLL!"

anna and ashley look at me, confused.

you see, i knew it would only be so long until people close to me other than those to whom i gave the link to would find the scottish thirty. i mean, if you google me on google, this is the first thing that comes up. and since blogger had updated its look and changed its format, it's particularly freakishly easy to to find other people in the same area, or say... the same residence as you.

this morning, procrastinating as usual and sharing stories of vomiting in embarassing situation with the girls, i check out my attention-whorish journal and proceed to have an almost panic attack. "oh jesus oh hell..." the vox pipes up, suddenly aware that it isn't just talking to itself, but rather an audience that knows the personification of it in real life.

i guess it was inevitable.

so i think that in order to save face [i'm also a pride-whore in case you were wondering], i should make a few things clear. in the words of nick hornby, as vocalized by the mighty john cusak- "i've been following my gut since i was fourteen. i've come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains." by this i mean that everything here is written from me, my gut if you will. it's opinion and sometimes not quite reflective of the truth [oh but its based in truth, believe you me.] so if you come across any of the characters mentioned in real life, don't automatically assume that they are who i portray them as, because you're getting a skewed perception. hell, any perception from me has to be skewed. hellooo- crazy girl on the fourth floor here!

and if you're mentioned in here and you want things removed, i'm at your service. you know where to find me, apparently.

i should try to make it right

i'm digesting aristotle when ashley and anna come home from class. i don't immediately get up to say hello, because i'm just finalizing my grasp on the prime mover and eternal motion. when i do go out, the girls are talking about health care. i comfortably drop into the conversation, my hands cupping my third steaming cup of coffee.

anna drifts away, preparing to get some food and to go downtown. ashley and i continue, debating about privatization and where it would start or stop. eventually we break apart, establishing nothing.

i dig being able to have conversations like that.

and we'll all float on

i'm supposed to be reading aristotle. i could be thinking about my religion essay. i should study for my latin test. i need to dig out quotes from the book of anthony for the presentation that i'm doing on tuesday or maybe thursday.

instead, i surf the internet and find out that michael stipe came out and somehow i missed it.

in my place

i stumble from my room, limbs akimbo, hair swept across my face, skanky pjs managing to not fly up. anna and ashley are awake and chipper, moving around in the kitchen. anna looks at me and starts babbling.

"goooooooooooood morning!" she exclaims, her damp hair losing water.

i wave my hand in a dismissive gesture and head for the coffee maker. morning is good, but it only becomes very good when there's a steaming cup of dark, warm, caffeinated beverage in front of me.

i was puzzled by a dream

it happens in the same way each year.

huddled into myself, looking for some nuance of warmth, i walk across the ringing pavement that is coated with a thick layer of frost. the sounds of the people crossing the bridge to my left are crystal clear. i imagine that if i concentrated, i'd be able to hear what the boy is whispering to the girl. then i'd know why she's blushing and telling him to shush. the windows of the building i am approcahing are glowing softly, offering a semblance of warmth in image only.

i invaribly look up.

i remember reading a book once that was one of those dorky self-help-love-yourself-good-feelings things. in it, there was a passage about mothers, and generic things you should know about your mother. the entry that stuck out at me was concerning the stars. the book claimed that regardless of who she is, your mother's favourite constellation is orion's belt.

when i invariably look up on the first true night of the winter season, i'm always greeted by this delicate constellation. it gleams with silver cold light, challenging me.

you got me in a spin but everything's a-ok

ashley and i drift around the kitchen, trying to find things to do. i finally settle on the dishes. most of them aren't mine, but i toss the notion of separating them out and only doing half of them from my mind. it's easier to just do things all at once.

"fuck!" ashely's voice drifts into my world from caitlin's room, where she's staring intently at the television. "bush won alaska."

all hopes for a brighter and better future are currently going down the pan. in the words of famous royalty- we are not amused.