Thanks a lot, Jill

My stupid sister, being the mass forwarder that she is, sent me an email that I didn't open but turns out that it sent itself through my computer anyway. If you get an email from me called "Joke" with an attachment file called "worms.zip" don't open it please. You guys should know enough about my hate of forwards to know that I would never send a forward. Also, I would never title anything "joke". My email titles should elude to the content of the email more than that. Also, by even reading the pathetically written email, you should know that my english is never that awful. I'm an English major, for the sake of the Lord. If I can't even write a two sentence email as a preface to a crappy joke, I'm in the wrong program. So, don't open it. It kinda sent itself to people who aren't even in my address book, so if it sent itself to you, my humblest apologies.

I do so love bringing up that I'm an English major. I don't know why I love it so much. It's not as if there aren't over a hundred first year English majors at Laurier, alone. I guess I'm just so thrilled to be loving what I'm doing that I want to tell everyone what it is that I'm doing. I was in such a small group as a Music major that it is moderately thrilling to be part of such a large department. In Music, I had the same people in every class, whereas, in English, it's always a surprise. I do so love surprises!

Hot DAMN, I hate dial-up! My internet has been barely working for three days. That is the reason for the Xtreme lack of blogs!

Bye, Matthew Alan Swift. I know you deleted your page so I'm not putting up a link that doesn't work. It's kinda sad to see your name in normal print. Well, it was fun while it lasted. :)

Gee, I really do dislike prostituting myself. As much as my father would have me sell a part of my soul to Satan for a job, I can't bring myself to hand out more than ten resumes a day. Today, I was flashing my goods. I actually attempted to sell myself to these managers. I call it prostituting today because when I got home afterwards, I felt empty and worthless. I usually feel bad after searching for a job but today I felt like shit. It's disgusting what we put ourselves through to try and get someone to hire us. I make a point of trying to be myself around potential employers but the other day my mother told me to "put [myself] away for awhile and be what they want." Yeah, okay mom. I'll just fake the whole time. That really makes me feel like a prostitute.

Tonight is one of those nights that I wish the wind would catch me like a pile of leave, so someone would have to find the rest of me and rake me back into a pile of Alysia.

And never underestimate the importance of Body Language, HA!

I woke up this morning with Little Mermaid stuck in my head. I have no idea how it got there but I woke up singing Ursella's song. No, I wasn't having a dream about doing some lesbian shit with Ariel, just in case you're wondering. I remember most of my dream last night and it had nothing to do with mermaids. It's me waking up with Disney songs playing in my head that makes me realize that I can't get married. Last week I woke up with Beauty and the Beast playing away. ("Tale as old as time....") Who the hell wants to wake up next to that shit? That would freak me out, if my mate started singing Disney movie songs when they woke up in the morning. I would have to wonder what the heck their sub-conscious is doing, kinda like I'm doing right now. If anyone has taken psychology and can tell me why I'm doing this, I'd like to know cause right now I just feel like a loser. "I pity da foo."

And another one from the dirty, Christian-free bastards at The Spark

You're taxing my gig, Reeg

Someone I don't know sent me this quiz and I love their results,

Which annoying B-list celebrity are you?

But my results kinda sucked...

Which annoying B-list celebrity are you?

"Leaving on a midnight train to Georgia..."

I took the train back to Waterloo tonight and for the first time I didn't feel like I was running away from something. I was just watching the clouds out the window, listening to some Dave Matthews feeling content. It was eerie. Normally, I would stare at my feet and wonder what I'm running away from but this time I just wished there was someone to compare my cloud shape interpretations with. Perhaps, because I'm going home I no longer feel root less and I know I'm not running away from anything. I just know that's not it. I wish I could figure out what I'm running away from, so I can ride the train with nothing on my mind but the shape of the clouds.

Ouch!

On Friday, I was supposed to hand out resumes. That was the whole reason for me to come home this weekend. I got up early, which is about 9 o'clock, and was out with resumes in hand by 10:30. My first stop was a clean, new grocery store in the area called Sobey's. I had just handed in the resume and was pulling out of the parking lot when my friends Matt, Erin, Jordan and Courtney pulled up next to me. I'm good friends with Court and I haven't seen her in a while so I got out of my car to say hello. Courtney loves to hit me with her crotch everytime she sees me and Friday was certainly no exception. In fact, she had month of not hitting me with her crotch to make up for so she ran at me and hit me hard with that beautiful crotch of hers. (Imagine bumping chests and that's sort of how it looks when she hits me like that.) Court hit me with such force that my head flew back and slammed against the top corner of my open car door. I said to Courtney, " I think my head is bleeding" to which she replied "Whatever, Melodrama." Five minutes later, I ran my hand over the spot only to withdraw it covered in blood. Court felt really bad but Naylor said they were on a tight schedule, for they were going to the DMB concert in Toronto, so I just drove myself home, which may not have been so smart considering how dizzy I was. At about 12:30 my head was still bleeding, so I called my Mom and got her to take a look at it. She thought I should go to the hospital, so I sat in emergency for about 2 hours. I walked out of emerg with 2 staples in my head. My head didn't stop bleeding until about 3. It's really strange to have staples in your head. I got to a point where I figured I was finished with pointlessly injuring myself and to end up with staples in my head at the age of 19 is kind of nostalgic in a way. It makes me feel as though I'm eleven again, which was the last time I got stitches. Anyway, that's what happened to me on Friday. I get them out next Sunday, in case you were wondering. :)

This is the week of my two really difficult exams so my blogs will be coming slowly, if at all. Call them Tantric blogs. I'll control them till they burst forth in one motha load. I'm back for good next Saturday. Ahhhhh...... the summer will be sweet relief....

I am just dying to tell you all what happened to me. Seriously, it's eating me alive. I do have to let a few people who are really close to me, including my best friend, know what happened before I post it to the world, but let me just say that I didn't hand out resumes on Friday like I was supposed to. I spent Friday somewhere else. It'll be posted by Monday. I think it's a pretty cool thing but some people will simply brush it aside as an "everyday" occurence, though if it was an everyday occurence your head would hurt like a bitch.

I think I know what the Devil was doing while God rested. Lucifer was creating Dial-up internet. It truly is the bain of my home life. I can't handle this shit for an entire summer. I'll go mad.

Oh, and if you know me personally, tell the people you love that you love them and remember there is no day but today. People who know me seem to be dropping like the people in Village of the Damned. Only they aren't going to sleep to be impregnated by aliens, but to go gently into that good night. So Virgins who make much of time, waste not yourselves and me. (Wow, shut up, Alysia. You'd think you just did a poetry exam or something. Awww, shit! You did, bitch!)

I keep seeing shit about that movie "We were warriors" and ever time I think it says "Once were warriors". I don't know about that "We were Warriors" shite but if you haven't seen Once were Warriors, please do. I was introduced to this fantastic movie by the most phenomenal English teacher I've ever had, Captain Rooke. I'm sure I've mentioned this movie before because it shoke me up. It's based on a family of Maoris in New Zealand and their struggles through a lot of shit. I know it sounds like a whole shit load of other movies like that but if you can just brush off this movie as being boring or run of the mill once you've seen it, I will be surprised to say the absolute least. If you've seen "Gia" or "Dancer in the Dark", think that sad. Not the same kind of tragic story but still moving. So much so that the end left me sobbing and shaking, but a different kind of shaking then Requiem for a Dream left me. You can get this movie at most video stores, so if you got about two hours and the three or four bucks, you'll be spending your time and money wisely.
(Perhaps, I just feel too much sympathy for the stuggling woman. I'd hope that I am objective enough to look past that.)

My friend Chris and I used to be really tight at the beginning of the year, so I was over at his place all the time. After I dropped out of music we kinda drifted apart, so I saw a lot less of his very cool roommate, Ryan. I ran into Ryan today and we chatted it up for a bit when I realized something about our eye contact. When I was speaking, he would look me in the eye but I would look away. When he was speaking, I would look him in the eye while he looked away. Now, I don't know Ryan all that well. He was the roommate of a pretty close friend but I haven't seen him all semester. I don't know if this is something I do all the time but just take a second when you are talking to someone and think about where you are looking when you talk and when they talk. I have a feeling it will be the same situation.

It's been said before

Just because you are going home, doesn't mean that you are resorting back to the old ways. You are different now and home isn't the same home. The home you once knew is gone. That's just the way it is. Whatever it was about that place that made you feel safe or unstable, whatever the case my be, has probably changed in your absence. You're not the only one who has changed. Your family will have adjusted as well as your friends. Go shopping for some clothes that are going to fit you now and know you have the power to chose. If home made you feel lost and alone, perhaps it still will. That is the way it goes. It won't be forever though. You'll find a new home, one that feels warm and safe. Believe in your own power to change your surrounding. If you need someone to remind you that you will be okay, I'm always available and ready to try some rememory.

Would you still love me if I wasn't smiling? Am I allowed to frown? It feels so unnatural, yet so right for the moment. Will you stop caring if I can't smile for a while? It's hard to be unhappy when you are counted on by others for joy....

One thing I can't wait to get home for: Lala. My family has called me Lala as long as I can remember. I've always maintained that the nickname had something to do with the joy I found in singing. My sister is called Lulu, so often we heard "Lala and Lulu" yelled when Dad wanted us. Last night, I was reading a letter that my sister sent me and it was addressed to Lala. It hit me right then that I missed that. I hate pet names but that one has a history of love. It isn't a silly name made up because of Puppy love. It has years of tenderness and family love behind it. It is unconditional love that can only come from my blood. I can't wait to go home and be woken up by "Lala..." It feels like home just to imagine it.

Well, I had a great time last night. It was Mr. Simon Thuss' birthday party. We went to McMillan's Pub which is a pretty cool place even if a rum and coke is $4. After McExpensive's we went to the Silver Spur which is always excellent for a good time. Mr. Thuss, his current roommate Terry and his roommates for next year Will and Sean/Shawn went up an did some mighty fine Karaoke to You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes, which none of them knew, except Terry moderately. Simon hadn't even heard the song before. Considering that fact, he did a superb fake job. A Mr. Shayne Burgess and myself sang Criminal by Fiona Apple. I must say that Shayne was superb on that song, not that you could hear him for my croaking but I must say that he definitely held up his end of the song. If only he knew the tune, then it would have been mind blowing. (Nooch) Anyway, it was a most excellent night. Just out of curiousity, Simon, how did those Tequila shots treat you? ;)

This song has been a big influence in my ... I want to say life but that doesn't give it's full impact. It's more like my existence in mind but that doesn't get to the roots of it. Just read the lyrics. It's a little long but it will give you an idea.


fire door

i opened the fire door
to four lips
none of which were mine
kissing
tightened my belt around my hips
where your hands were missing
and stepped out into the cold
collar high
under the slate grey sky
the air was smoking and the streets were dry
and i wasn't joking when i said
good bye
magazine quality men talking on the corner
french, no less much less of them then us
so why do i feel like something's been rearranged?
you know, taken out of context i must seem so strange
killed a cockroach so big
it left a puddle of pus on the wall
when you and i are lying in bed
you don't seem so tall
i'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tired
and my brain is disconnected but my heart is wired
i make such a good statistic
someone should study me now
somebody's got to be interested in how i feel
just 'cause i'm here
and i'm real
oh, how i miss
substituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kiss
and oh, how i miss
walking up to the edge and jumping in
like i could feel the future on your skin
i opened the fire door
to four lips
none of which were mine
kissing

i opened the fire door

The weather is a mirror for my mood today. Fuck imood. Look outside. If it's grey and raining, you know how I feel.

I've kept a sketchbook for as long as I can remember. It's kinda like a journal for me but in a different way. In my journal I lay down exactly how I feel, whereas with my sketchbook it's more vailed. Also, in my sketchbook, some things have no meaning at all. Awhile ago, I wouldn't let people look through my sketchbooks because they were enigmatic and often people would get the wrong ideas from them. In the past month I've let about 10 people look through the sketchbook that I carry with me. I have about 4 sketchbooks but the one I let people look at is the most frequently used. Most of the time, I'm sitting right next to the person flipping through my sketchbook so I can gauge their reactions. I don't know why I bother to sit next to them. I never tell them what they mean or anything like that. I want to tell them that not everything has the meaning that they may place on it and that just because I draw them doesn't mean that I have some "thing" for them. I draw people because their appearence intrigues me. Also, with the sketches I often write a little blurb. The blurbs aren't always related to the picture. I just wanted to clear that up for anyone who happens upon my sketchbook. Things aren't as they seem. The simplest solution is just to ask what I was thinking. Usually, I don't mind telling.

promise - n 1 assurance that one will or will not undertake a ceratin action etc. (promise of help)

Does anyone else have extreme difficulty keeping their silent promises to themselves? I keep making promises to myself that I never seem to keep. Not the promises that I tell my friends about, such as my promise to not regret things, although I am having some minor difficulties with that. I mean the promises that I never say, which I don't have any examples for because they are my promises to myself. These promises are the extremely difficult ones. The ones that I know I won't be able to keep because they are too important. The promises that make me clench my jaw and fists in hopes that this time I'll be able to keep this one, but if I clench my jaw too long it starts to hurt and once the jaw comes unclenched I can't keep the promise anymore. My self-restraint begins to hurt as well. I know I should keep them but I can't. It's more the urges that accompany the promises that I give in to. My brain says, "Alysia, do you really want to deal with what that brings? No, you don't." Yet, I still do it. Whatever "it" is seems so necessary that, even though the consequences are unmanageable, I still do it. Silent promises mean nothing unless they're spoken and become real promises.

Ooops...

Well, that was a long weekend. My weekend in Toronto kinda turned into a week. It was a good time. I did a Iot of shit and now I'm back. I don't want to go into the day to day like I always do so I'm just going to leave it at that, except that I now know what it's like to have my hair set on fire, courtesy of my best friend Matt. Why I consider him my best friend when he does that shit I'll never know but he didn't laugh too much when he did it so I'll forgave him.

When I came back there was a note on my door from my don telling me to come see her. When I was away there was a Conrad Hall, my residence, year end thing where all the dons gave speeches and they gave awards out to some people in the house. Well, I guess that my fellow residence members decided that I deserved the Culture in Residence Award for "exemplifying artistic ability and promoting diversity and cultutal awaremess within Clara Conrad Hall". I designed the house logo, the Conrad Ladybugs, which will be the house logo from now on and I'm always yelling about shit so they gave me an award for it. I thought it was pretty sweet. It kinda made my day.

Ron Jeremy would have enjoyed my essay

I wrote a Communications Studies paper on porn today. It was about how photography has changed our society so I decided to write about accessiblity to pornography. I don't know how the teacher is going to take it because it really was a boring subject that we were supposed to write about. I wasn't really supposed to write about porn. I just thought it would be a good idea to discuss McLuhan Determinism thesis (we cannot control technology) because of the obvious lack of control we have over the incredibly huge porn industry. Just to give you an idea on how boring some of the topics were, one of the girls wrote about the telegraph. I don't know what she wrote about the telegraph but it was how the telegraph changed our society. Porn is a little .... risky for the typical subjects. Let's hope he enjoys it. Just not too much.

I did something I haven't done in a long time today. I said no to going somewhere with a good friend because I was staying home work on an essay. I'm notoriously awful about dropping everything when a friend wants to do something, including just shooting the shit. Today, though, I said no to taking a break to work on an essay. I feel bad because I love nothing more than sitting and listening to my friends talk about their lives and what they're thinking but I had to do this essay. I'm sorry baby, but for once I had to put school before my desire to spend my every waking moment getting to know the people who surround me. I owe you a lunch. ;)

This has possiblity for greatness.

I have to wonder if Helen Keller would have all those quotes floating out there if it hadn't been for the fact that she beat such tremendous odds. What about those people who are constantly against tremendous odds and surmount them? Do those people get a chance to have their quotes on websites like mine? Is it simply because Helen Keller was a Westerner that we put so much emphasis on her accomplishment? I'm not attempting to downplay her victory at all because if that was me I would have sat in my dark world and done nothing. Good job Helen Keller, but what about the others?

I really have to learn how to fuck off about shite. I just can't seem to believe in the work I hand in. Remember that poetry essay I had to do worth 40% of my mark? I wasn't sure how well I did, so the paranoia set in. "I'm gonna fail this essay and it's gonna make me fail my course and then I'm not going to make my average to get into second year and then I'm going to have to fail out of school and ma vie a sous. Translation: my life sucks." Well, I got the paper back today. Alysia, you are a loser. Same thing I always get. The WLU Alysia Mark and the comment "Good idea but more editing." He also wrote "Keep up the good effort!", exclamation mark and everything. I'm not really sure how to take that. I'm an criticism girl. I may not like the harsh comments but I know it's more productive than "Keep up the good effort!" What does "Keep up the good effort" achieve? My mark wasn't that bad and the things he said about my paper were true. There is no need for him to tell me to keep trying. I guess he means that I improved since the last essay but it still isn't superb. It's just a good effort. It just made me feel like a high school kid again.

James, my poetry teacher, is the coolest. He compared Ice Cube to Shakespeare today. Most excellent.

Oh, and boys, I realized last night, as I was thinking about this weekend, that the only person I could watch slap themselves in the chin with their dick is Jesse Whelen. I would honestly prefer to see your dicks over Jesse's anyday but the fact is that slapping yourself in the chin with your dick is a very degrading thing. I hadn't really pictured it but last night I realized how undignified the act of hitting yourself in the chin with your penis is. I think the only person I could watch do such an act would be a stranger or Jesse, simply because Jesse has no dignity in my eyes already, as harsh as that sounds. If you knew the kid you'd understand. I'll stop bothering you now about how I want to see it if you can do it. I just want to know if you can do it. No joke though. If you can do it, let me know. No Nooch, I want to know.