up down turn around please don't let me hit the ground

i went to bed at ten twenty two last night.

at ten twenty eight, james called me and we talked on the phone till half eleven at least, about pretty much nothing, but it was definately the highlight of- in retrospect- probably the most crap day i've had in a long time.

this morning now, i can't seem to wake up and have decided that i am suffering from an as-yet un-classified disease. i think i shall call it brutus coprus- translated roughly as the unmovable heavy body disease.

god i need more coffe.

you were right about the stars, each one is a setting sun

today, my friends, deserves commemoration.

i have always been a bit anal about my marks. i think that perhaps excelling in school was my way to counteract some of the chaotic events in my house when i was growing up- by always being a good student i could at leat have control over some element of my life, small may it be.

i think that it must be a reflection on how comfortable i am with my life in general when i tell you that today, when i got an essay back with a mark of D MINUS and comments that told me what i had written was a 'whimsical' bit of fiction, i only freaked for thirty seconds and then was impressed by the fact that the fiction i wrote was considered whimsical.

lowest. mark. ever.

i kind of feel like celebrating. look out lobster and stores with pants.

black and white, red and blue

so, i just spent a good two hours doing absolutely fuck all and i have so mucy crap to catch up on and i sent email to people i don't know but not my professor which i really must do and then the stupid latin aarrgghhh but in between i ate some peanut butter and avoided coffee and goddamn if today isn't just one big beautiful messy confusion.

ps- it smells like mud outside. i dig that.

what if the right part of leaving turned out to be wrong?

in the tradition of my mother, i'd like to do this in a triadic form.

the good: going home. petting a cat. roast beef. georgian bay drinking water. more than one room to dominate. sunshine IN THE MORNING. using a knife. seeing tom. turkey dinner. glasses of wine at four pm. hearing tom's wohoo! when he came in. yelling at fish customers. making fun of the weekenders looking for fish. kevin and ali showing up. pancake breakfast. being a general asshole with james. watching baraka. eating chocolate. watching movies. reading something not for school. sharing music with marmee. watching just tv. eating off of a plate instead of out of a pot. kathy and raisin. jumping in a mud puddle. seeing my first robin of the year at home.

[please note that i mean a bird- not the sidekick kind- i saw her first this year in january[.

the bad: crabby siblings.

the ugly: some poor bastard lfting my cd wallet in the tornto bus terminal- sixteen golden greats, all that you can't leave behind, antics, surfacing, achtung baby, the best of nineteen eighty to nineteen ninety, b sides, calfornication, the fellowship of the ring, parachutes- i miss them already.

and now my brain has shut down and i want to chew things. rawr. LIKE A FOX.

love, i get so lost sometimes

what continues to shock and amaze me are the treasures people hide deep within themselves, treasures that people are unable to share because of some self-inhibiting fear that the world will not embrace and hold and encourage the cultivation of these treasures so that they may be embraced and enveloped and enjoyed by all those people who were initially though of as scary rejecting masses incapable of feeling or accepting or embracing these new, these unique, these entirely compelling and outstanding hidden treasures.

no, i just don't understand it, but continue to be shocked when they leak out and thier shiny sparkly edges draw me in and remind me that there is just. so. much.

with the stars up above in your eyes

my favourite thing to think about is what exactly people will ingest when they have a severe case of the munchies after getting extremely stoned. it inevitably falls into a series of categories- first, sweet or salty. next, there's a desire for either smooth texture or that unmistakable and satisfying crunch. the flavour is also key- you're searching for either something entirely unique or some sort of combination that is layered. i've seen people eat lime slices, mustard sandwiches, cake with pickles, chips dipped in whipped cream, cheese and peanut butter- pretty much anything goes when you've a jonsesing for that non-specific unnamable something.

however- i've found the answer. i now know what the ultimate food for the stonder munchie-seeker would be.

chocolate covered pretzels.

[where the fuck have these been my entire life? my god].

beneath the noise below the din

let's get something clear here.

the u2 camp can generally be divided into two sections- those who will follow, and those who will walk away. [har har- i couldn't resist. ugh- that was bad though, wasn't it?] anyways, over the years i've noticed that there really aren't a lot of in betweeners.

i mean, you've got bono- possibly the most arrognat lead singer in the world. let's get it clear here and now that i love him and would probably be smoted for worshipping a false idol if god still made personal appearances. however, i do understand it when people crack out the whole 'man that bono-guy is such a fuckin' prick saying he's the lead of the best band in the world' argument. then there's the edge who is generally ridiculed baselessly for his choice of headgear or his sound. adam and larry are generally skipped over- although comments could be made about the grimaces larry makes while drumming and the fact that he doesn't age, and that adam clayton is just...well. he's even weirder than your typical base player.

then there's the sound of u2. you've got the pre-war fans, the up-to-joshua tree fans, the zootv adorers, the pop haters, those who wish they had just stopped before making all that you can't leave behind and those who think the opposite.

[we won't even mention the whole joshua tree vs. achtung baby battle for the slot of best album].

anyways- the point of all this?

i don't really have one. i just wanted to blather non-sensically and have just time-vampired a few of your minutes away from you. i'm positively evil this morning.

muahahahhaha.

it's funny how life can go

three totally unrelated kinda sorta bits of life.

first: i am currently listening to k-os on repeat. kelly told me that i needed k-os in my life, and i scoffed at this suggestion. however, right here right now i take back this scoffing because i am now convinced that everyone needs soem k-os in their life. really. go now and somehow obtain the love song and tell me it doesn't kick ass.

second: i told the humsboy that i wanted to kidnap him. [i told ashley, who is now laughing at me i bet, that i told tuesday, but really, i told the boy. sorry ashley- but there's more on you below]. now- tell me, was that a bit forward? the plan was that i would kidnap him, stuff him into my suitcase and fly to venice where we could tour the canals. god i'm such a dork.

third: ashley needs to be exaulted as an all powerful ticket goddess of the best luck EVER. i'm going out to buy her things right now, secretly maybe, that she may not want because she is ill with some sort of cough that rivals the consumption. but regardless, i shall be indebted to her for life because of her actions this morning, because...because...because....

i own two general admission tickets to u2.

i think i need to go lie down or something.

unos dos tres catorce

t-minus thirty four minutes.

i'm sitting in my pajamas, tucked into my chair with a mug of coffee, lamb on my head and u2 blaring out of my speakers at me while i sing tonelessly and horribly out of key with bono. anna and ashley are moving around and i've got that excited nervous feeling. melissa and james have yet to come online, but that's ok, that's good, there's thirty four minutes. i've got each show covered, i've got the maximum i can spend figured out...

and i'm going over this outloud and then typing it.

i am such a dork.

oooooooh

i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry. i'm cracked out on soda crackers and i'm dehydrated and i have no shirt on and i just got in a a fight with the window in my room but sweet baby JESUS this just slayed me.

i have no shame.

i wear my sunglasses at night

ok. i might be showing my geek here- but HOLY CRAP.

i just pillaged some random person's computer on my campus and got both previews for star wars: episode III and i have to sadly admit that i am. so. freakin. excited. that it isn't even funny.

that shit looks intense.

i'm drunk. and right now i'm so in love with you

yesterday while i was walking up the back stairwell in leeds after roman civ class my pants fell off.

you see, i have kind of a weird body type. as previously mentioned, i am a busty blonde. my five ten frame, however, is slightly warped in that i have [literally] no hips. ask saroja. she was genuinely surprised to find that any shape i do have actually stems from extra weight that i really could do without.

anyways, this lack of hips makes buying pants nearly impossible, because almost all pants are built with extra room in the hips. [or, with a disproportinate waist-hip comparasion]. thus, any pants i have are fine as long as they stay firmly at my waist. once they hit hip level [which has a smaller circumference than my waist] it's all down hill.

or just down to the floor, as i re-learned last night.

that girl that girl she's mine

two snippets:

"a poooping sock monkey... [the drugs they're kicking in]."

and

"speedos are the first thing new pool people notice."

i guess it doesn't help to mention that i'm sitting in my towel, sans clothing, eating corn bran, drinking coffee and listening to bono belt it out, does it?

while the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car

i love it when i rediscover music that i had and then forgot about. like yesterday, after rent, i came home and rediscovered NIN. [i know, i know. how do i go from rent to NIN? if you can figure it out, by all means, let me know].

when my parents were splitting up, my brother kevin would listen to pretty hate machine in the attic. it used to float down the stairs to my room. after a few weeks, it started floating up the stairs to my room while my mom blasted it from downstairs.

i'd like to go on the record and say that trent reznor is my demiurgic new orleans lover.

so many ways

so, after having spent the night drinking merlot from my mug, engaging in el purgatorio with dante and virgil, talking on the phone with tuesday about our imaginary lesbian relationship minus THE SEX and watching clueless whilst eating ryvita crackers with spinach dip- oh and let's not forget the hooker boots and stripping with anna while ashley was trying to interview kyle about his seeing for the mathematics- i have to ask myself:

what more is there?

[also- i think i get an award for this finely typed post, because really, i pretty much demolished that bottle of wine. and i just stopped drinking it like ten minutes ago. magic. majestical. something. yes. sleep sounds good].

theologians they don't know nothing 'bout my soul

i secretly like musicals.

i know, i ridicule the sound of music with gaylord or gayrod or whatever the hell his name is, and the bad one liners ['there's a girl down there that's never going to be a nun."- how can i NOT ridicule that shit?] and just in general laugh at all of the flouncy and extreme movements that occur when people break out into song. is it really necessary to sing about eveything?

but secretly, i do enjoy musicals.

this afternoon the girls and i went out to see rent- you know it. i know you do, because i thought i didn't know it, and i did. and it was fantatsically done, and very happy-sad, and just awesome.

i guess my musical love is now now no longer secret.

will you follow me?

i am happy to say that i am the other half to another half.

now, don't start jumping up and down. don't get all excited. don't think that i've grown a big pair of brass balls and asked the boy out or declared my love or anything. no no no, i'm still sadly admiring from afar. rather, i've decided to be the other half in a lesbian relationship with my bubble- minus 'the sex.'

[and you have to say sex with a 'the' in front of it at all times. for example- "man, that's some crazy time to have the sex." or "woah, that's a lot of the sex." it works better you see].

anyways, last night bubble came over and she and i and robin had a night of random conversation which was super nice. after we finally went to bed [i take no blame for the hour at all] tuesday and i decided that really, we could be girlfriends. it would make life easier. the deal was sealed when i told her i would make her a mango-banana-raspberry smoothie for breakfast.

so yes, i'm now the proud girlfriend of my proud girlfriend.

minus the sex.

you're wearing me down

at the beginning of the year, laird and macisaac told us that we would be rewarded. that it would all build to something. they told us that shit last year, and it didn't amount to anything. at least not for me.

i told you i was just fooling everyone.

anyways, we've been studying dante's divine comedy for the past three classes. we've just finished hell. all the levels. all the gates passed. all the horros seen. and let me tell you- i was fucking horrified. remind me to never ever become a banker- the fear of the hooked demons is upon me.

but, this year, they didn't lie.

when class started, yet again i pulled out my pen and my book and i was all ready to take notes. macisaac is being all dramatic. the lights are dimmed, he's talking in a calm and sophisticated voice, his hair is not sticking up and his cup full of lord knows what is abandonded while he slowly, calmly tells us of the horrors of hell. [this is, of course, entirely a planned show put on. it's an act, a motion, but a damned good one].

ten minutes in, i glance to my right. peter glances back at me, and silmultaneously we both throw our note books to the floor and cackle quietly.

they weren't telling us shit at the beginning of the year- it really was building to this. we've been rewarded by knowing exactly how horrible the hooked demons really are. the terror, i shit you not, it's really on me.

you speak in signs and wonders

reason number infinity that megs is a big dork:

last night heathere called to talk to me about girly things, and while we were on the phone i got super excited because the sun was going down and actual sunlight was coming into my room. i proceeded to babble about the equinox and the tilt of the earth, dropping the phone numerous times while i struggled to squash as much of my large frame as i could into the sliver of sunlight that was splashed acros my wall.

man, sunshine in my room is possibly the most exciting thing of life right now.

a dreamer of pictures

love. i could use a whole lot of love right now.

this morning started off far too early, but that was ok. i talked to liz. i had coffee. there was fluffy snow. i talked to kate. i had more coffee. there was good music. things were nice. i had one more coffee. things were really nice

i cracked down on the roman civ essay about noon.

[let it be known here and now that it takes me a full day to write a paper, even when i have my research done. i can't pump it out like some people. it's my whole attraction to shiny things, they make me wander].

anyways, i'm typing away, i've got seven hundred words, and i realize that it's drifted a bit so i redraft and cut and paste and then really get on a roll. like, the words are flying out of me, albeit unclearly. but i'm not worried, it'll be edited later. and then, then there's that fucking noise. it sounds like there's a dead bird being reanimated by doctor frankenghoul or something. it means one thing, and one thing alone- a fire drill.

[i'm sure you remember my joy of fire drills from the past].

i pull on pants, grab the crappy roman civ text i stole from jeffreys and heard outside, figuring it'll be a mere twenty minutes before i am once again typing madly at my roman civ paper. after i'm done it, i'm gong to do latin. get some studying in for that test. great plan. awesome plan. i am majestic at planning plan.

except we're kept out of our building for fucking three and a half hours. THREE! THREE HOURS OF NOTHING! THREE WHOLE FUCKING HOURS! THIS IS ME FILLED WITH RAGE!

when we're allowed back in, there's some interesting water leakage from the fifth and sixth floors because some of the sprinklers went off. i rip off my pants, throw on other pants, and then run to res commons to meet peter and kelly for dinner. [because yes, i'm such a good student that i'll go out for dinner before writing a paper]. when they arrive, i'm literally physically shaking with rage. i start telling them about my day and catch myself before i get hysterical and start acting a fool. well, more a fool than usual i mean. and i do mean seriously hysterical, like sobbing hysterical. i just catch it. woah nessie.

we then proceed to get food. i pay for all of dinner with my visa and am less filled with rage. then comes the bus adventure wherein megs and peter tramp to lycee clodel stop- if you know ottawa, you're asking what the fuck? if you don't know ottawa, know that this is nowhere near my home and it makes little to no sense as to how i ended up there. we end up in past-knee-deep snow and almost missing the bus we were supposed to catch.

when i finally get home at half ten, i attempt to work on my essay. which is so shiete it's actually hilarious. i call kate, whine to her, she makes me laugh and then i crack down with coffee [such a fiend!] and some sugar t keep me going. except i'm so tired that it really doesn't work.

i now officially give up. i'm going to sleep for five hours, get up, skip latin class [yeah, there's a fucking test. fuck that fucking shit. i don;t care if i'm just using jeffreys. the raaaaagggeeeee comes out again here as you'll see] and then apologize and explain to jeffreys in the evening.

oh, and all of this was accomplished with a broken toe. i fucking told you i needed some love.

and the words that secure a cause are now faint whisperings

i slip my feet into the shoes, fighting slightly with the buckle and walk slowly around. tuesday comes over while i'm twisting and turning and hemming.

"oh my god meg, those have bows! they're perfect!" she exclaims, sipping on a mango juice.

so on thursday night i felt like going out, but instead stayed in, ate something [dear meg, get a handle on this whole food thing, love yourself] and generally wasted time and cleaned my room. i crawled between the freezing cold sheets just after midnight, expecting to sleep well.

at half-midnight, or just after, ashley comes home with dave, who proceeds [or so i assumed] to vomit for about ten minutes. horrible disgusting death noises from across the way. then silence. then caitlin comes in, positively yelling. she and will bang off the walls, disappear for a bit, then come back. it settles. i drift.

and then my phone rings. it's tuesday, looking for a place to crash. no problem, come over, two a.m. it's all good. i wander into the kitchen.

there's banging in caitlin's room, and then a louder bang BANG BANG from ashley's room, and dave starts screaming in a drunken slur "i'm coming in your mouth!"

the water i am drinking comes out my nose. ashley comes out of her room, caitlin comes out of hers and there is a girl pile of laughing hilarity on my bed for the next few minutes. tuesday arrives shortly thereafter and we stay up talking about boys and drunken actions and plans for the formal.

did i say i expected a good sleep? it was good- all three and a half hours i ended up getting.

and then, in the afternoon- tuesday and i went shopping for last minute formal needs. which for me included shoes. shoes with a bow. i'm utterly disgusted. and, erm, well.... i bought sparkly things. i mean super sparkly things. rhinestones and pearls. sparkly like that. and make-up.

i fear for my soul. and i'm going to hell.

she later found was truth

i spent ten hours in paterson hall today. that's right. ten bloody hours. of that, only four and a half were class. the rest of the time i spent with my bare and joyfully sockless feet piled on coats and bags in the sun reading dante's inferno, or sitting in the hall and just talking talking taking to people.

but still, ten hours?

secretly, i loved it.

unaccquainted with your suffering

i'm piss-poor with keeping in real contact with my family.

the advent of msn and internet and email and the like makes it so much easier, and yet so much more impersonal. but because internet is always there and already paid for, it's usually my medium of choice. i talk to my brothers and my sister, my nana and now even my mom online.

tonight, while talking to james i realized that at this point in time, it's been the longest i've ever gone without seeing him since he was born.

that's life and age and weirdness sneaking up on me with a sean bean style BAM!fwah, that's for sure.

life's river shall rise she said

caitlin's cackling in the next room while watching american idol. i just spent an hour and a bit watching lost and the beginning of alias with ryan, the aussie boy with the fuck off shiny hair from next door. anna took a shower and the suite smells like nice. ashley was in and out and has gone back out again.

there's just under two months of this left. i'm beginning to feel a bit anxious because i'm coming to realize i'm really going to miss it.