"I've been thinking about you" doesn't mean that the thought weakly passed. "I've been thinking about you" means, "I deliberated about the consequences of revealing your domination over my waking moments, finally deciding, after consulating my most devoted friends (and flatmates) many times, that I can't keep pushing you back, so I'm nonchalantly mentioning that you may have crossed my mind in hopes that you'll reveal my domination, knowing full well that the chances of equality are slim seeing how beautiful you look today." Or maybe that's just me...

George "Dubya"'s Granddaddy was a Nazi. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Just look at the current situation with America and Arab born peoples.

Before sitting down at the computer, I must first acquiant myself with the fact that I currently have 12 or so webcomics that I check on a daily basis (or MWF, cause most of them aren't daily). Then, as I am checking those comics I must constantly repeat "You don't need to look at another comic. You already have enough." It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the damn load time. If it's a stupid website that is fickle about loading, it can take a freaking long time. The problem with webcomics is that they all have flippin' archives to spend hours going through. With newspaper comics, what you see is all you will get. With comic books, you have to pay money, sometimes quite a bit, to get the old issues. Sorry, babies, I'm not that dedicated. I was raised to be cheap, and webcomics, they don't cost me a dime, although, I'd like to think that if I wasn't stretching myself thin as is, I'd donate and freely. Will I ever be comfortable enough to feel as though I can give something other than my time? With my stupid ethics, doubtful. (Geez, I hate saying that, but it's my truth.) I wish I could pay the grocery store in time, then I could give my money to a cause where it will possibly do some good.

New Ani album is out on March 11th!!! YAY!! I'm finally going to have the studio versions of the songs I heard at the concert. I'm so FREAKIN' EXCITED!! (In case you didn't know.)

I hate it when the archives extend past the end of the sidebar so I'm going to blog again just to fill space. I never have anything to say anyway so this isn't any sort of drastic change. :)

I wrote this last year, and is just being used to fill space. Completely ignore it if you chose.

...and still I wonder

“Alysia, I mean really, what are you thinking?” lectures my inflated sense of inadequacy, in its habitually condescending tone. “You should know better by now. Unattainable. Come, come now.”

“But there may be a chance…” cautiously whispers self worth, newly returned from the hospital. It is perpetually ill with one thing or another. I can not keep a healthy self worth. “I mean, he does seem accessible.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” moans my memory. It remembers the past, while it shuffles by wearing the face I scarred. I allowed too many unwilling to reciprocate my affection to come close enough to blood let.

“But maybe…if even just maybe,” says my self-esteem, which is dying as we speak of an incurable disease, eating it from the inside out. It is in confidence chemo but I believe it is beyond healing.

Then it stops. All the discussions, all the complaining, all the noise stops. He walked in. The owner of the only voice that matters, but we all know he won’t say a thing.




So similar… stupid girl and stupid git

I decorated my monitor, because that is the sort of thing I idly start and, consequently, have to finish. I decorated it with contè which is relatively easy to remove if I so choose. I enjoy the look, so I don't want to remove it. The problem lies in that I have a nasty habit of late nights in which I sit at my computer listening to music while reading or writing or random link following and usually during on of these sessions a song will come over my headphones which gives me cause for pause, at which time I rest my head against my monitor. At my house, it is not out of the ordinary to have people show up at 2 or 3 in the morning, when my forehead is covered in blue, orange, purple and various other colours. It makes for a more interesting computer, but the people I associate myself are ruthlessly sarcastic and have no problem with letting me know that I am a fool. Such a fool. *shakes head in shame of own folly*

I'm a nihilist-in-training. It takes a bit of work at first to stop caring about everything.

This city is so damn cold, but I'm too stubborn to wear a hat. Damn my vanity. Grrrr...

You know what's great: coming home from a day of class where you constantly get ridiculed for your views, only to be attacked by your friends! It's the best. If you're in any sort of daily contact with me right now, be prepared for a defensive Alysia right now. I spent years riding the fence, keeping silent about what I believe. I guess this is what going against popular opinion feels like. Now, I understand suicide reasoning. How do you continue when comfort comes armed with clubs and nails?

Turns out that when my voice is left to its own devices, I am an alto. For years my voice teachers have tried to tell me that I'm a soprano while forcing the music on me, but I've always said that I was most comfortable with alto music. My choir director just confirmed my decade long suspicions. I am an alto. (I'm probably a mezzo, but I want to be right, so we'll call me an alto.)

It's been so long since I last looked in the mirror and was gripped by that old familiar feeling: "Who is that? Geez, I know I've seen them before but who is that?" Another, popular one is the feeling of watching a stranger brush their teeth, but it has been about a half a year since I felt that way. Could I finally be figuring out who is under my skin? Or has this change of scenery been enough to surprise me enough that I don't need my face to shock me washing my face at night?

I want to rename this hunk of junk Busting Paradigms with Misunderstanding because that seems to be all I can convey lately: misplaced reasoning. I have never had a strong command of language. I am a wonderful analysist, but when I try to relay what I am thinking that which is logically organized in my head becomes jumbled in language. My active thoughts become passive in translation.

Frida was amazing. If you are in the Kitchener/Waterloo area, it is playing at the Princess tomorrow and Thursday and then on March first. Oh, do go see it. It is a passionate, lively film that has the perfect balance of humour and sobriaty that is strived for, and yet lacking, in so many Hollywood movies. It's visually wonderous without being overpowering, and Salma Hayek and Alfred Molino have wonderful chemistery as Frida and Diego. I really don't know how to descibe all the ways that this film is, in the original sense of the word, awesome, because it is so ... AH, I don't have a word, simple doesn't suffice but breathtaking is too much. It's like a driving really fast in a really smooth ride, you don't even feel like you're going anywhere until you are there and then you just revel in the trip's memory, but even that crap analogy doesn't fulfill it. Just see it and then maybe you can help me describe this phenomonal piece of film. I've realized that many of my favourite movies have some correlation to Lions Gate Entertainment. Also, the movie was nine dollars and I thought that was an amazing price. Ah, inflation will make anyone a sucker.

The more I read about it the more I realize I must see Frida.

The Legacy of Hot Showers

My grandparents
Didn’t have a high school education
It just wasn’t an option
during the Depression.

So they struggled to secure
a job to procure
a life for their family
with lifetime security

And here sit I with my University degree,
his masters of philosophy
and we're just hoping to survive
the hours after here.

Take a look at your history
You just might find
that behind the liver spots
and grumbling whatnots
You’ll have your own legacy
Of clean towels
and hot showers.
The opportunities taken
by the other generations
so we could be
bourgeois,
and end up fighting against
what they fought for.
Maybe we deserve war,
as a jolt out of ignorance.

Most awesome thing I learned this week

This week I learned about the invention of the vibrator in my Women's Studies class. As I learned, in the mid-18th century many women were getting carpel tunnel syndrome from too much masterbation, so doctors invented the vibrator to help combat the ailment. Porn stars everywhere rejoiced.

I called up a friend last night to apologize for something I said three weeks ago, and this friend laughed at me. Of course I became outraged. My inner monologue was screaming, How dare he laugh at me when I am trying to set things right? He felt my indignation; I'm not really good at hiding stuff like that.

Friend: "Alysia, you've said way more hurtful things than that and you've never called me up to apologize before. Why shouldn't I laugh?"
Me: "Because this time I didn't really mean it. The other stuff was probably true."

Of course I asked for examples, a demand he could not fulfill. He'd probably be equally outraged if he knew I was doing this but I am trying to sort out why those things that hurt were let slide? Why was it okay? And why was my apology considered so strange? It was a flash moment in the day when I realized that I really did need to apologize, and when I mentioned that to a friend of mine, she asked why I would bother apologizing. Her reasoning was that if he was my friend he'd understand. I answered in typical Alysia fashion, "I don't know. I'm having a rare moment of heart and brain agreement, so I'm going with it, even if I don't know why they agree." I felt he deserved that apology. I was wrong, and, because he is my friend, I can be wrong without injury to my pride. We're all wrong sometimes, yet it is rare that one of us are willing to own up to it. "It's just different sides of the same truth." "My reality is a variation on your reality." Please don't try to feed me that bullshit. Sometimes, we're wrong. Why didn't he tell me and why was it unacceptable that I confessed that I wasn't infallible?

Just for a laugh: I got a paper back that I had written without looking at what was required for the assignment, thinking "oh well, I can lose 10%". I got that assignment back today: A. My prof raved about my interpretation of the requirements. I love how in English "requirements" are a load of crap other than word count.

I want to tell the world about everything I've been feeling lately but I don't have the words. Just this to leave you with: care about something that matters to someone other than yourself. (I have to tell myself that when I wake up in the morning, otherwise the day is wasted in self.) It amazes me how much apathy and ignorance I'm surrounded with here in this intended mental environment. Pick a topic that someone else might care about other than what bar you went to last night and find someone to talk to about it. Passion grows exponentially in the presence of like minds and if passion grows enough it evolves into action. (What is so wrong with caring? Where is the fault in possessing knowledge?)

I am going to enjoy this term. That is all I am going to say on the subject at this time.

My home is not Waterloo, but it is not Sarnia anymore. I am rootless. A friend of mine said to me that "When you get comfortable, you're fucked", because currently he is fucked. I am not comfortable. I don't know where I am anymore. I have finally become the delicate fuckin' flower I always said I was. When does a person let them self become the person they always joked about being? When does the joke become the reality? If I start to accept all those things I've never accepted, will they become me too? Will I lose all my fight when I start to let humour overpower me? It is hard to have endurance when I don't know where to rest my mind for the rejuvenation of home.

Happy Freakin' New Year!!

Not that that really means anything, but still I hope you all had a great night with your friends or family. *insert goop about how much I hope you all enjoy this glorious existence all the time* Oh, and as for the whole New Year's resolution thing, nothing has changed, all my old habits are still slowly slithering away while I light firecrackers behind them.