and we'll make a good goulash, baby

this morning i woke up to sun- real live burninating sun- flashing across the sea of vehicles that race by my house every morning during their mad dash to downtown corporate ottawa.

combine said sun with crisp, see-your-breath temperatures, eggs on flax seed bagels, delicious coffee and cashmere, and well, it might be too good to be true.

[now, i go to ruin the bubble fo awesomeness by reading marx. eeeuugghhh]

is this love that i'm feeling?

so, i know i've mentioned before that my body shape is slightly, erm, challenged.

i know- hearing people bitch about how they're too fat or have too-small boobs or weird skin or funky eyebrows is horribly trite and far too common on online journals. i'm not complaining, i'm just attempting to refesh your minds that my oddly shaped body [read: hips smaller than waist] is indeed a force to be reckoned with, especially when clothes shopping.

it's such a force that actually, i avoid and put off buying clothing because it just takes too much effort to find something that doesn't make me look like i'm fifty pounds overweight or sixty-two. or a combination thereof. today however, i grabbed the bull by the horns- or the cotton by the thread, if you will- and ventured out tothe mall with the aim and goal of not returning home until i had atleast three things.

today i was reminded about why i avoid malls, body hang-ups aside. and especially why i avoid said malls on saturday afternoons when the weather is shiete and cold and gusty and windy and everyone and their brother is out shopping for fancy dresses or hallowe'en costumes.

however, i now own cashmere.

i may have created a monster.

so this is goodbye? this is goodbye

the clouds here have been michaelangelo clouds every evening for the past four days.

awesome things in the past few days have included caravaggio, winnie-the-pooh, moby's itunes original album, free food in the lounge before lecture this evening [which included PINEAPPLE YESSSSS], coffee, wind cold enough to make my nose run and my cheeks red, spaghetti squash, kelly bray dancing in her chair, a lecture by a man with a sexy australian accents about genomes, and creamy mushroom soup.

this weekend should be an adventure.

that night in toronto

dear gordon-

when you sing the word riot, i get goosebumps and my toes tingle. perhaps you could make a vocal track of yourself, singing strange words. i'm thinking along the lines of 'shell' or 'perhaps' and maybe even 'quintessential'- i can assure you that i, for one, would buy it.

in conclusion, i love you.

love, meg

this town is no longer mine

two blocks south of my house there is a large brown store that sells mechanical bearings and all things related to said bearings. i fantasize about going in, walking around. and when the salesman comes up to me asking if i need any help-

i'll tell him i've lost my bearings.

your hand in mine

i unexpectedly met kevin and his 'crew' for breakfast this morning at the elgin street diner.

they're all in ottawa for steve morely's bachelor party. i find it immensely strange that steve morley- the guy who, when sixteen, built a giant "schlong" [his term, not mine] around the enitre outside of my house and then up to the attic window- is getting married. i think i'm stuck with him as schlong-builder in my head forever.

anyways- the diner was packed. i mean packed. and i would hazard to say that ninety percent of the patrons were nursing extreme hangovers. not like mine yesterday- but bad enough to warrant wool caps and old sweaters and pajama pants and too much coffee and stares of hunger- mixed with slight undertones of disgust- at the plates of food circling round the place.

i'm regailed with tales of strippers, hookers, and turnip shawarma while i slowly sip my coffee, trying not to spit it out in the midst of gales of laughter.

when we all step outside, the street is at a standstill as everyone looks up at the unexpected snowflakes that are drifting down from the bleak grey sky. kevin decides he needs new pants, the rest of the men opt for hangover drinks at the manx, and i'm forced to go in the opposite direction, to my house, my room, and hegel.

stupid hegel.

one day you're waiting for the sky to fall

yesterday morning i woke up with the worst hangover i have had since the morning after my nineteenth birthday.

[my nineteenth, by the way, has created in me a permanent aversion to raspberry flavoured vodka. i shudder at the mention of it, cringe at the sight of the bottle and actually feel slightly nauseous when i smell it. sadly, i'm not the only casuality from my birthday- kate will never ever again imbibe in the raspberry tinged jet fuled either].

anyways, basically i felt like death. i watched my official hangover movie [the x-files- go ahead and snicker, i KNOW you want to] and then, well, i watched more tv because moving hurt.

i was supposed to go to a potluck at peter's, i was slowly working towards making food, wondering if i showed up with three litres of water if that would count when, out of the blue, i was essentially kidnapped by the plans of zach.

bruce cockburn. eight o'clcok. national arts center.

i think we won for youngest pair in the NAC in our section.

ten points!

hello apollo- where should i begin?

even though it is fall nearly winter, i think that i am twitterpated.

either that, or ottawa really and truly is full of beautiful men. who, it seems, travel in groups, wear a lot of plaid in earth tones, have short non-emo hair and seem to be discussing intelligent, slightly-but-not-overtly-snobby trendy things.

booooooooooys.

help! i'm reverting to thirteen!

man your battle stations- we'll have you home pretty soon

not to be cocky or anything, but you know what?

i. made. it.

today has a huge significance to me- i didn't really realize how big until the day was upon me. this time, exactly one year ago, i was sitting in the leg trauma room of the E.R. at ottawa general trying to convince myself that it couldn't be all that bad, that getting hit by a car really wasn't that bad, that not walking, broken bones could be dealt with.

and on the surface- that was totally true. it was the emotional whammy that really was next to insurmountable.

truth be told, i'm astonished at myself. again, maybe it's me being cocky, but after being hit by a car, losing my father, my paternal grandmother, and my maternal grandfather all in one year- i sometimes cannot fathom that i'm still here, i'm pretty ok and that i'm progressing toward normal happiness slowly but surely.

there's so many people to thank, so many small actions that have helped me that i cannot even begin to think about ascribing a number to them. however, that cocky part, it's standing up right now, pointing a finger at itself. because you know what?

i made it.

and that counts for something. and i'm allowing myself to accept it.

[kinda feels like i've flipped to the dark side momentarily or something. maybe i should put on my darth vader mask for a bit and pretend to rule the galaxy. oh yeah]

we live together in a photograph of time

i'm sprawled across my bed, one sock pulled too high and the other half removed from my foot. both of my lights are on, and a scented candle that smells of my mother's house burns beside my computer. coldplay's on in the background- chris martin singing in dutch. i'm laughing at my book- the author has actually just claimed that a virus may save us from alien invasion.

it's not perfect, but it's pretty damned close.

man your own jackhammers!

tonight on the bus home from kate's house, leslie and i were surprised to find that the entire centre and back portion of the bus had been turned into a sing-along dance par-tay of sorts. after running through vocal renditions of macy grey's i try and justin timberlake's sexyback, the group of [mostly] boys dived into some popular rap/rhythm combo that the entire bus ended up clapping for.

i like the feeling situations like that give off.

in other news, i am having a slight issue with a new overwhelming addiction: trying to decipher what the shit is going on in the coheed and cambria universe. either i'm on drugs, or this is some fantstically fucked up amazing shit.

i'm thinking it mostly the latter.

every time you close your eyes

twelve hours in the car, a traffic jam for no reason at all, night-sun and day-moon in the sky at the same time, three dinners in two days, depleted family pictures, nineties trivial pursuit, five cats, alexisonfire, the candle shop and georgian bay.

sometimes i can't seem to find the words.

i can't believe this is where i live

i think perhaps i may love the new alexisonfire album.

in other news, kevin made a delicious roast this evening and then we [including kyle o'keffee, who i am considering calling room mate part three point seven five] curled up with blankets and watched the ring.

i can deal with that movie so long as i don't have to see the dead faces.

tomorrow is lisle sibling roadtrip. i'm looking forward to the inevitable nuances of character and behaviour that will pronounce themselves as they always [and only] do when we get together.

meet me when i come baby

i rode the bus for free today.

basically, it excited me beyond belief. the only way that bus ride would have been better was if the bus was the gehtto bus.

actually, that might have been too much to handle if i'm to be quite honest.

ten times removed i forget about where it all began

i had this dream the other night where i was standing in a field, thigh high in fragrant grasses and closed flowers in the depths of night. a cliff was off in the distance and beyond that stretched the ocean, it's inky surfaced marred only by the reflections of the stars. and then, slowly, three of those stars wavered, caught fire and burned as they fell, dripping down from the blue-black of the sky to the still water below.

i watched in awe and understanding, my feet slowly sinking further into the ground.

but then a fourth star started to colour, started to drip downwards in that same spiral and it terrified me. the grasses around me began to mirror the ocean- frothed up by a wild wind that seemed to sweep down from all directions at once. my feet were tangled in their roots, so i watched from afar, unable to move, tears streaming down my pale face as this star waned and waxed in motion.

just above the water, it stopped.

the whitecaps below it looked like ivory in the black water. and slowly, as if drawing power from that purity, that age old act of water curling and folding in on itself, the star began sprialling again, slowly, inefficently but with a definate drive, back toward the heavens above.

without blinking, i watched its progress as the wind continued to hurl the water on the invisable shore below.

when i awoke, it was to the sound of traffic, light rain, and a tangle of blankets.

i hope it was more than a dream.

and you act so deaf so blind

my coffee maker died this morning.

it's ok, i'm ok, everything is OK. i am genius with a strainer and boiling water. however, given the state of our strainers, i didn't want to spend the next four hundred mornings huddled over a cup with a strainer in order to get my daily dose of necessary caffeine.

so, after tossing out the old black beast that served me so well over three years- i should write an ode or something- i went to the glebe emporium and bought an overpriced fancy french bodum.

i'm trying to resist the urge to make afternoon coffee just to use said bodum, but i'm finding that my resove is failing. apparently new bodum + temptation of black nectar = too much for my will.

i blame the shiny stainless steel parts.

ooooh, shiny.....