tough, you think you've got the stuff

"you FUCKER!" i grunt, pushing forward with all of my might. "you FUCKING motherFUCKER!" my legs tremble, and despite my all, i am thrust back, the only sound penetrating the dimness is my breathing and the slow squeak squeak squeak of-

[jesus- i just realized that i was totally writing porn-like material there. hahahahaha- i even said penetrating. sorry. the juvenile me has revealed herself yet again. i wonder though, maybe if i said slow and high pitched squeak?]

- the tires of the van as they slowly roated in the snow.

i haven't really been driving poor vanny much lately [read:not once since the fifth of december. whoops?] so i had to go and dig the poor bastard out, de-ice him and make sure he'd start up in the cold. apparently going from cold to hot in a few minutes isn't an issue with the old van- i just need some help from behind in order to really get him moving.

[i'll let you interpret that as you will].

but not being there might break your sweet heart

sharon and i catch each other's eye, and that's almost the end of it. i manage to contain my snickering, and return to the sheet in front of me.

"sed in eis erat sempronia, quae multa saepe uirilis audaciae fainora commiserat." i chew the end of my pen, shifting in my seat, and jot down what i think the translation for this means.

"libido sic accensa, ut saepius peteret uiros quam peteretur." i chuckle to myself, and jot down the sentence easily. [of course i would remember the one about lust and propositioning].

and then that's it. second year is half over. all of my exams are done. i've survived. it's time to pack up and go home and have christmas and do some readings in preparation for next term. things are moving along.

my god- can someone get me a stiff drink? i think it's time to stop.

one more step to the top of the city

i like to sleep with my window open.

i like it when i'm nestled in my bed and the blankets are heavy on me and i have to pull them up to cover my ears, or even right over my head [with a space for my mouth to breathe the frsh air- i hate having to breathe under the blankets. it weirds me out]. i like feeling the cold air wash over my nose and mouth, and i like the way it's hard to get up from my bed in the morning.

i might have taken the cold-room thing a little to far though- last night on my desk there was a mug with some left over coffee in the bottom from yesterday. when i got up this morning, i grabbed the mug to use again today.

the coffee in the bottom was fozen solid.

don't let it bring you down, it's only castles buring

the scary octranspo lady looks at me, her left eyebrow raised and her hand near her hip, resting on the butt of her scary assed clubbing tool. "i'm sorry ma'am, you're going to have to get off of the train."

i smile and my eyes slide shut.

i went on a mission after my oral humanties exam to get kelly's christmas present. [let me interject here with a "yes i am aware that some of you are going to make jokes about that" note. i mean the oral exam. you're going to make some crack about me, macisaac and laird, and the true meaning of pocketfood aren't you? or.... ermmm... maybe not? maybe it's just me?] anyways, i needed to take the otrain to bayview and when i went to buy my ticket, the ticket dispenser ate my two dollars. grumbling and cursing under my breath, i stuck another two dollars in, which proceeded to jam, registering as paid, but without dispensing my ticket. so i stuck in yet another two dollars, which proceeded to fall through the machine repeatedly.

and then the train was there, so i stepped on, figuring that i'd be ok.

except of course they're checking tickets, and when they get to me, they ask me to get off. so i do, and the lady is angry, and i look like a total reject when i put my two dollars into the machine at this stop and it works.

of course, i miss the bus i am trying to connect to, and end up just getting on the train and coming home.

the one bonus was that the other person who was pulled off of the train and actually ticketed was a hot individual of the male variety who kept my eyes occupied for the entirety of the forty minutes the whole ordeal wasted.

my aching heart will bleed for you to see

monday last was a bad day. actually, let me rephrase that, it wasn't really bad, it was just probably the saddest day of my life ever.

my dad went in for surgey with what was confirmed as esophageal cancer. he spent most of the day in surgery, wherein they removed seven centimetres of his esophagus, re-building it with skin from his arm, which they then had to patch with skin from his leg. in addition to this, muscle fibre was removed from his chest to rebuild his neck, which mainly consisted of scar tissue from the removal of his voicebox just under ten years ago.

needless to say, i spent most of monday dwelling on this, and about three hours that night crying. not from fear, not from anger, not from rage- just from the pure emotion of sad.

the teddy bear was in poor shape the next morning- i always bury my face in it, so he totally needs a wash because he was snotted good. i mean real good. like... wait, i don't even want to describe it good because it's possibly the most disgusting this ever.

poor bear.

when he comes to buy your soul

sage advice point number sixty seven: on a sunday in december, stay far far FAR away from any massive corporate chain store that opens at eigh am, even if you are there before ten am.

i had some christmas shopping to do today. i had to pick up one last gift for ashley and grab a few things for my brother. i needed food. i wanted almonds. these things are necessities in life during exams and for christmas preparation.

carleton is on the light rail system in ottawa that currently has one corridor, running north south. the closest and easiet grocery store to get to is loblaws [overpriced and crappy], which is in a strip mall type place along with other corporate giants that include but are not limited to: staples [surplus and not so surplus office supplies], future shop [the future- now, at horrible prices that will rob you of any chance of a future], michael's [store full of weird blobs of fake wax fruit that more often than not have teeth marks in them from wee children, and other craft supplies] and that massive corporate devil that is walmart, the store that just has to freking well have everything ever wanted with reasonable prices.

[i swear the devil owns this chain, i swear on everything i bought there today].

anyways, while walking by the mens clothing section [being forced there a detour around the female undergarments] an old biddy tried and mostly succeeded in knocking me on my arse with her shopping cart while racing with another biddy to get to some men's long underwear.

i've never been so terrified in my whole life. i left walmart thanking jesus, vishnu, yahweh, god, the golden calf, all the saints and the stars above that i made it out of there alive.

then i ventured into the grocery store.

it was so horrible that i've no memory of how i made it though. all i know is that one moment i was descending into a hell where people were fighing over no name rice crackers... and the next i was shoving my way to freedom out of one set of two massive double doors, hoping against hope that i would escape the vile and evil clutches of the daemons of loblaws while clutching no name fish sticks.

[like, what the fuck? no name fish? ME? the fish bitch, getting no name fish sticks? there must have been some mighty tempting-type demons beside those suckers, because normally, i'd not go for that shiete. i ate some for lunch though- am not dead yet so it must be ok. but still. what the shit is that? the box even says that they are made from minced fish. what the fuck man? what the fuck? i am so confused].

when i got home, i dropped to my bed, bags flying every which way, milk forgotten for a few moments. i believe i may have been speaking in tongues.

never again. never, ever again.

he won't love you like i love you

robin is sprawled across my bed, surrounded by sheets with words like matthew, christology, eschatology and jewish catching my eye. she's reading the acts of thecla as a break between covering the apologists and matthew, while i am madly drawing a picture of paul, who has been described as short, bald, bandy-legged man with a hook nose and a unibrow.

one day i'll really work, i promise.

in the meantime, i have to say that i was mighty impressed with my childlike rendition of bandy legged paul. he'd totally be a good boyfriend.

mother sucking rock and roll

last year, i got in the habit of writing imaginary letters to inanimate things that bothered me. today, i compose again.

dear jesus class,

you know, i was really excited about you. a whole year of jesus and jesus related things- what more could a girl ask for? yet you came along and sucked so hard that you made me want to get a flaming fork and stab out my eyeballs. you made me want to dig my heart out with a spoon. you made me want to eat all my meals in the cafe for a year. you made me want to listen to n*sync for hours on end because even that would be better than you. in fact, you made me not even want to look at funny jesus related things because they made me shudder, thinking of you, and that my friend is a terrible, terrible thing.

in conclusion, you suck harder than anything else and i hope you jump into a pool of rabid seals and are not saved by the grace of god, because he most certainly should not be with something that has as much death-power as you.

love, megs

[the rabid seal pool death thing is actually from class, so i guess there was at least one cool thing i got from it].

from the brightest star comes the blackest hole

crawling out of bed this moring was one mighty confused megs.

i went to bed before midnight yesterday and almost immediately fell asleep, in a log like position. [read: face mashed into pillow, on stomach, limbs akimbo and caught in sheet]. and i dreamed. and dreamed. and dreamed.

there was a man, and he brought me tea, but the tea was purple and smelled of lavendar. his shirt was pink but he wore no shoes, even though it was snowing in my room. music was playing in the background- i'm pretty sure it was have yourself a merry little christmas. and in the corner was my latin professor, smiling crookedly and decked out in everything leather and bondage.

before you think i have a thing for him or am slightly deranged thinking of bondage and my latin professor, let me explain.

on monday we had a mini party in latin class because it was the last day of classes. we all brought in food to share with everyone, and there was even wine. [hey- it was noon somewhere in the world]. anyways, in addition to this, we were supposed to dress up in togas- so we all had sheets draped around us and were parading around like dorks.

now, in roman times there were these people called lictors, who pretty much [if you go according to cicero's acount of things] went around and beat people with sticks and whips. so when i went to latin, i decided that i would be a lictor and took my black leather bondage spanker.

[look- don't ask, just accept that i have it, ok?]

anyways, i sitting there talking to joe when my professor comes up and asks us what the whip is. i explain it to him [it still has the tag with it's picture on i, so it's pretty clear]. he looks at me for a few momemnts, stes down his drink and then, extending his right arm, rolls back his sleeve and looks at me.

"c'mon then, give us a go."

i stare at him, and am about to slap my professor with a bloody bondage spanker when it hit me that THIS IS MY PROFESSOR. he's not only the person who teaches me latin and roman history, but the person who will be grading all of my work in forty percent of my classes for the year. i tell him i can't, and am forced to retreat to the other side of the room.

maybe i should have spanked him?

as i kneel in my big church

it's my weekend to clean the commom area.

at the beginning of the year we set out a schedule for it to be mopped and vaccuumed once a week by each of us, on a rotating schedule. as everyone is out tonight [or so it seems- i keep hearing weird clicking noises from the common room when i am not there..] i decided that i had better up to it.

is it horrible that i just stood and sniffed the floor cleaner for five minutes?

you don't have to be shy about it

i hear my phone ringing when i'm peeling my right contact from my eye. i quickly shove it into its holder of precious liquid and dash into my room and to my phone. i can't see a bloody thing, but i already know it's kelly.

her voice always comes across as tinny from toronto- she sounds so far away when in reality it's only a few hundred kilometres. five hours in the death van, if you're measuring time wise.

"so..." she pauses.

the phone is slightly slick in my hand and my stomach clenches. you see, last night kelly called just as i was heading out to go dancing. her news wasn't particularly stellar. in fact, it made me sit on my bed and question why i couldn't really cry over it.

when i was in grade four, my dad's voice started changing. it got raspier and rougher and he was eventually diagnoised with cancer in his voicebox. this is a disease that normally struck men who were twice my father's age- a disease that left little to no chance of survival because of the implications involving the cancer spreading to the lungs and bronchial tubes. they didn't tell us when they operated on my father, but he had something like a thirty percent chance of pulling through the surgery alive.

he did. the deity above has a different plan for children and alcoholics.

anyways, the complications after surgery are difficult to explain, but essentially my father has to have scar tissue removed every once in awhile from his bronchial tube because this scar tissue can cause complications with his breathing. last week he went in for a regular check up and instead of scar tissue, they found a cancerous mass.

"so...dad came down to toronto today and they shipped him back to owen sound, but he's coming back down next monday for surgery to remove the mass and then they'll do further assessment afterwards."

i nod, only remembering afterwards that kelly can't see me.

the resolution of all my fruitless searches

so can someone tell me why i've never been to barrymore's on a sunday night before?

after dancing for three hours to tunes like duran duran's hungry like the wolf, prince's kiss, U2's sunday bloody sunday, madonna's every fricking song ever, i think i might be super happy right now.

sore, but super happy.

this place is so quiet sensing that storm

yesterday whilst at the mall i found out that peter gabriel has a new dvd out. this of course inspired me to come home and listen to peter gabriel for hours on end.

dancing around my room to 'in your eyes' and 'sledgehammer' made me realize that i really don't have very good dance moves. they might even rival my ability to sing. it looks like i'm maybe beating up a pretend mannequin while fighting swarms of attacking locusts with a gimpy left leg.

look out barrymore's.

never listen

tuesday looks at the waiter, her mouth curling up in a grin. "the cheesecake. the one which has chocloate involved...you know?" we gape at him and he smiles and walks away as we crack up.

i initially intended to go out and buy something nice to wear out to barrymore's tomorrow. however, i felt scrooged and cheap, so i instead asked to borrow a top from my bubble so that i could save money and time.

the money part worked- not so sure about the time, but it was time well spent.

after trucking off to tuesday's house- which took for-freaking-ever because i missed the otrain by milliseconds [read: my hand was out to press the button that opened the door when it started to pull away] and then the bus [it was eight feet from me damnit!]- we had a dress up party in her room and i tried on most of her shirts. my bubble has an amazing wardrobe and a massive-good taste in clothes, so it was super fun. eventually we decided on a pink tank top and a white lacy top to wear over that. it was apparently a favourite in the wardrobe during highschool- i think she should wear it more often.

anyways, we decided on a whim that we should go downtown to chapters to look at books, which we did after perusing the gap and other stores. i got some christmas ideas and even managed to refrain from spending any money on myself. damn gap and their lovely bottom pieces.

[and damn my bottom for not fitting into said lovely pieces].

then- we decided to stroll through the market. passing a restaurant, we discovered simultaneously that we were both very hungry. we stepped into a few places, but they all had waits so we went into zak's diner.

this place is simply stellar. i've always heard people talking about it, and i must say that it really was a blast, even if it was slightly pricy. we slid into a turquoise-vinyl-seat booth, surrounded by fifties advertisments and proceeded to gorge ourselve on burgers and fries. [man- i haven't had burger and fry dinner since like august- was it ever good. melikes the dead cow, a lot].

then- dessert. like i needed it. but we decided to split a piece of cheesecake. tuesday even gave me her cherry from the top of it. [yeah- we made dirty sexual jokes. need you ask?] we talked about everything under the sun [read: boys and all things related to boys and the boys in our program] and had an all round good time.

we then proceeded to the rideau centre where i looked at plenty of things that i wanted but bought naught, and then went our separate ways to our respective homes.

man, i feel like an over stuffed ham. but a happy over-stuffed ham.

don't nobody know my troubles but god

i know i admit it perodically, but i think it's time to bring it up again.

i have a problem. two problems actually.

number one comes in the form of a boiled black liquid strained through a variety of ground up beans. add a drop of milk and just a hint of sugar and i might possibly believe that i'm in heaven. the problem s not that i consume this nectar- it's more the amount that i consume. i was doing well- one cup in the morning. and then it turned to two, and then three. now it's three cups in the morng, a mug shortly after noon and another cup or two around four in the afternoon.

can we get an intervention in here?

problem number two comes in the form of squishy goodness and warmth. [that sounds kinda... oh never mind]. i like my bed. no, i mean i really like my bed. at night i open my window so my room gets deliciously cold and i snuggle in in my oh-so-classy [read: ugly] night clothes and sleep. and sleep and sleep and sleep. if it were allowable, i'd stay in bed all day with cold air blowing in my window.

with coffe though. would definately have to have coffee.

and walked the night alone

my laughs echoes and rebounds against the walls of the movie theatre as i convulse with glee at the ending of bridget jones: the edge of reason. [i know- entirely chick movie. but i really loved the first one and how can i not watch something with colin firth in it? he's condusive to sweet dreams you know...]

the theatre in south keys is set up slighty oddly so that when you exit from the separate sides of the theatre, you meet exactly with the crowd from the other side of the theatre. [and how many times can she say theatre in the same sentence?]. kate and i met up as we were some of the last people to be exiting.

timing it exactly to the music that was playing over the credits, we look at each other, and using our thumbs as fake microphones we both sing out loud and clear "ever-las-ting loooove!"

the two male theatre attendants look at us, look at each other, and dissolve into laughter.

again- point to me for being a total dork in front of the opposite sex. sign me up for the nunnery- i believe i might possibly be hopeless in matters concerning the opposite sex.

[i also guess it wouldn't help to mention that i'm wearing massive underpants just like bridget right now, would it? damn you comfortable underwear! DAMN YOU!]

sometimes you kick

this morning when i woke up it was to sun. real sun. the-sky-is-so-blue-and-clear-it-hurts sun. and it was cold. not like, forty below zero cold, but still that cold that forces you to stand up and take notice. it's the kind of cold that makes your nose run incessantly when the wind is blowing and blurs your vision by making tears. it's beautiful.

i also woke up to a picture of pillaging and burning on my day to day calendar.

how could things get any better?

neon heart and day-glo eyes
...in which meaghan will relate a few strange incidences that have happened to her in the past few days which will further affirm your belief that she truly is a dork.

while walking home from class on monday night, i looped down to the bus stop because i was walking with liz and ended up walking in front of res commons. staring up at the monstrosity that is glengarry, i stop in my tracks, point with my mouth agape and exclaim outloud to no one in particular: "holy crap would you look at that shrine!"

see, i have a bad habit of staring into windows that have no curtains. i mean, how much does it cost to invest in some blinds people. [hahahaha- you're also talking to the girl who never ever closes her curtains. i have them tied open to admit maxium light]. anyways, i know it's a bad habit and it's kind of... perverted? perverse? wrong? disturbing?... but it just happens. in looking up at glangarry, i saw this absolutely massive shrine to orlando bloom on the wall of some room. it had pictures of him fawning on the beach, that one of him in bed looking all come-hithery [i'd only come hither if it meant access to his phone book- look out hobbits and old old men!], and some of him all dolled up as the elf.

it even had lights around it.

i stood there for a good three minutes pondering this, and admiring the massiveness of the shirne. sure, like eight people looked at me, looked up at the building and then looked back at me with that 'what the hell is the crazy girl looking at?' face, but whatever. i was enthralled by the shrine.

the next strange occurance was actually a number of occurances, and not really so strange. just a bit different from my regular agenda.

now, i don't want to get all political and yell about war here, but, i kind of did last night. george w. was in town, and i felt that perhaps i should show him that i don't necessarily condone his actions in iraq.

[i came to the coherent conclusion through watching some people on the news that i'm not really anti-bush. i mean, the guy himself, although a total weener, i just can't say that i hate him. what i do not agree with at all are his policies and how he implements them. so i'm not anti-bush, i'm anti-bush policy, if that makes sense].

so down i go to parliament hill with kate to the candle-lit vigil for peace. i missed jack layton [damnit!] but caught the moving words of an american who deserted the army because he didn't condone the actions his country were ordering him to do. in the midst of his speech, a man walks up to me and kate, stuffs a pamphlet in our hands, and says "can you share?" kate and i nod, and then i look at what he's handed me.

endorsement for the canadian communist party. man, they find me everywhere.

next, we rally behind a banner [which is surprisingly hard-yet-easy to find. being that it's dark and there's like five thousand people around, it's difficult to see much of anything. easy because eventually it left and we just followed the masseswhich were following it.] the goal is to march into quebec to the museum of civilization where we will protest some more.

[that's right folks- here in ottawa we have inter-provincial protests! BAM.]

so over we go, yelling, holding our candles, chanting, cheering. i watch in awe as a man scales the traffic light post and scrawls an incomprehensible message on the back of the traffic light. a group to my left, wearing ponchos made out of old quilts, bang on their drums in time to the chants we're all yelling. a wagon filled with children passes me. a man strolls confidantly holding a sign that reads "peace out, motherfuckers."

[i am particulary enamoured with that one].

things remain relatively calm until we get to hull. the police have set up metal barracades to keep us well back from the building where bush is, and the riot gear is out in full force.

did they really think that a few measly metal fences would keep the angry mob back? i laugh at their defences: ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaa. so, after the pushing over of the barracade, the riot police come at us and we're at a stalemate. i watch as a few people scuffle with the cops, with a very pink individual leading the charge. [her pink wig... maybe hair? and gloves were very noticable. her outfit and choice of clothing reminded me of a certain someone].

overall though, the crowd stays relatively calm. when it becomes obvious that we'll not be getting any closer, kate and i slip back through the ranks and begin making our way back to ottawa. police are everywhere.

i notice that they've removed all the metal detail from the stone fence in front of parliament.

as i'm in bed much much later that night, the cold sheets doing nothing for my freezing cold toes, i pull out my mental to do list. finally- i can check off item number seven hundred and fifty four, section six point eight- march at night in an inter-provincial protest against war.

i feel so accomplished.