I'm sorry, babies, but the blogs won't be coming anytime soon. I have to have gotten a fierce cold which has basically flattened me and isn't showing signs of departure. I blame that asshole Shayne. You can yell at him at wangmaster@hotmail.com. (If only his email address was as cool as either of those, he'd be a happier little fucker.) So, yeah, I can't forsee myself blogging anytime soon. *overcome with coughing fit* No, seriously, I was. I'm gonna kill that bastard.

Oh, and this is totally radical. (Not in the activist sense, but in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sense.)

But I still love you, baby

I had an interesting experience with ViaRail yesterday. Because of the awful weather on Sunday, I was forced to find alternate means of transportation, which included seeing if the sold-out Via train leaving Sarnia on Sunday had any cancellations. At 7 o'clock, I got lucky and purchased a ticket for the 7:25 train, glad to get back to Waterloo at all, let alone at 10 at night. About five minutes after my purchased they declared that the train would in fact be an hour late. That was cool with me since I wasn't planning to be on the train anyway. My da and I went for coffee to find, upon our return, that the train was going to be an additional half hour late. 'Okay,' I think, 'I can handle that. That means the train leaves at 9. That's do-able.' Da and I part ways. The delays continued. My luck again prevailed in that MIA blogger Dan Smith was taking the same train, so we watched South Park and Family Guy episodes on his laptop until the train came. Honestly, if wasn't for that blessed iBook, I don't think I could have made it through the 6 hour wait. Yes, that's right. My 7:25 train didn't leave until 1 in the bloody morning. We got into K/W at 3:15, when we were supposed to get in a 9:45. Yup, that's 8.25 hours of pure Via. I don't think I've spent that much collective time at a Via station, let alone in one sitting. I wouldn't have been able to get home any other way, but over 8 hours. Come on now. Is that at all reasonable?

ARGH!!!

This stupid frickin' weather has me stuck in this stupid frickin' city. I was planning to head back to the 'loo tonight, but because of the weather I have one more night here. I have trouble doing school work at home so I really wanted to head back. My parents want me to stay here for the summer, but I don't know if that will be at all feasible.

Hitting Trees on the Walk to School

When I first started this blog, I told anyone who was reading at the time (which was no one) that I would be talking about myself, as that is the only thing I can write about with any conviction. Over time I've branched out, but I always return to my initial promise of a narcist's exercise in blogging. By the insistance of Shayne's car, which has felt the stench and stains of this habit every time I get in his frickin' car (I don't do it on purpose; I'm just a klutz.), I have given you one of the reasons I drink so much coffee: my last lingering addiction. The other reason, like anything, takes a bit of preface. My Aunt Fred once described "coffee as earth and tea as heaven". (Things that have been said by others seem to stick if they're said by loved ones. Acquiantance holds pencils, whereas Love has Sharpies.) I don't drink a lot of tea for the simple fact that I have trouble staying grounded. I have what I like to call "spells". They stem from my nasty habit of forgetting to breath. How does this effect your coffee habit? Good question. First of all, coffee contains caffeine, which gets my heart going, causing me to need an increase of oxygen. (By the way, I've never seen a doctor about these "spells", because most people just attribute it to my scattered personality so it goes unnoticed. Fooling the system with oddities. Yes!) Therefore, I won't forget to breathe if I drink coffee. Next, these "spells" make everything seem like a dream state. No, they aren't seizures because they don't happen enough and don't have the proper accompanying symptoms. I need the grounding effects of coffee. I need something to make me feel like I'm alive and breathing. Everyone gets this when they're too tired or too stressed or too beaten by life. Perhaps I should just become accustomed to a constant state of the overpoweringly surreal, but I want the experience too much to just allow myself to give in. Everyonce and awhile I'll surrender to the surreal, but most of the time, medium dark roast, one cream, one sugar or just give it to me black and bitter.

Sympathy Removed

What is "good-bye"? A good-bye is rarely good. If it is good-bye, it is more like a tearing, tortuous, tormenting bye. If good-bye is forever, where is the goodness there? No, good-bye is not good unless it is a "see you later", or a "Talk to you soon". Good-byes threaten self-inflicted maiming. They dent the iron casing surrounding that barely functioning, mangled heart we all have once we've seen to many of those good-byes. Why do we insist on adding good-byes? Why do we feign that we are parting on good terms by inserting that pleasantry? Is it our desire for closure, or our need for acceptance? “Well, if I say "goodbye" it feels like it's really over, even though I know it isn't over.” “If I say "goodbye" it seems like I am not repulsed by them, and, therefore, they will not further tarnish my stained name.” I did not say goodbye to the people I’ve parted with on good terms and by chance never spoke to again. The only people I’ve said a poignant goodbye to have been those with which I never wanted to speak with again, so why was it a “good-bye”?

I don't think I mentioned it after the Ani concert but Hamell on Trial, the opener, was most excellent. I suggest "I hate your kid" and "I'm gonna watch you sleep". "Go fuck yourself" is also magnificent but unfortunately the website doesn't have that song available. Anyway, check it out. His live performances are invigoratingly captivating. (Yes!)

This blogpage is being maintained especially for you. No, not for her. No, not for him, for you. THEM? Heck, no. I'm doing this for you, because of all of them I like you best. You're my favourite. *blushes*

Just a couple things to say, nothing really too important. I went to see the 2002 Cannes International Advertising Festival at the Princess on Sunday. It was more entertaining than I thought 1 1/2 hours of commercials was going to be. One of the best commercials there was a Budwiser commercial, entitled "Men of Genius" "We salute you Professional wrestling costume designer." "Only you have the daring to put 350 lbs in spandex." "If it weren't for you, a man putting another man in a headlock would just look silly." Imagine the whole commercial with bad eighties power ballad in the background. Excellent!!

Also, I love being home. I thoroughly enjoy not having to cook my own meals. I don't have to worry if the heat is too high. My laundry is free, free, free! Oh, I thought paying $2.25 per load of laundry was bad, but my friend Karen has to pay $3.50 for a wash and dry. Is that not frickin' ridiculous? I mean I pay $1 for wash and buck 25 for dry, and I thought that was relatively reasonable because I don't pay for water or electricity for the basement, but she pays $2 for the wash alone! I have this strange feeling that I'll live in apartments my entire life (which stems from my distaste of all things "settling down") but finding an apartment that has all the things I desire from a place is going to be difficult. Mehn. The place I have now is nice and Mum and Da adore doing my laundry (no, really, because they love saving me money. Aren't they the best?), so I'm pretty content.

The last of the unimportant things is to let you know that if you get the chance, see Sum of All Fears. I know it sounds kinda stupid, and I probably wouldn't have seen it if Karen didn't have it to show me, but it was actually quite good. The best part about it is that every single movie or television President is better than the real one! Dubya is a farce compared to the one in Sum of All Fears, or any other movie Prez. The movie isn't one of the usual art house films that I advocate, but a Hollywood military film. Don't expect a cinematic masterpiece, but it is pretty insightful for a Ben Affleck movie (Dogma excluded). I thought this was hilarious: On the left is Martin Sheen who plays the President on The West Wing and on the right is James Cromwell, the man who played the president in Sum of All Fears. These men marched on F15 in LA. Yay them!

The Peace Rally

To sum it up in two words: FUCKING RIGHT!!! My friends Karen, Joe and I started out marching with the students from Jarvis and Queen where there was a student rally at noon. While there, we got a sheet of chants and marched up to the main rally at Queen and Dundas. Just a couple of quick facts: in London, England over 2 million people gathered; in New York City the march spanned over 40 city blocks; in Toronto we numbered over 30 000 before the march. Imagine the energy and then multiply it by 10 for the passion in that crowd. We met my friends Sally, Jeff, Laura, Danielle and Jen in the square (they recognized my 9 feet of red and white pure scarf enjoyment) so we numbered 9, and an energetic nine at that. Our energy was infectious. At one point we had a crowd of marchers dancing with us to the drums. Jeff has an enormously loud voice, similar to my own, and because the crowd was relatively quiet when the students had dispersed Jeff and I lead some chants without bullhorns. Needless to say, I have no voice right now, and I don't come close to regreting a moment of it. For the third time this month, I feel like I'm part of something bigger than me. The positive energy was felt worldwide. My dad told me about his protest on the Chilian dictatorship when I was younger. Now, I have a significant story to enflame my neices and nephews with. (No kids, so I'll influence my sister and brothers. Mwahahahaha.) This was the also the first time that anything has been staged at the Dundas square.

And to all those people who went out in their own city (over 60 cities in Canada marched), I salute you! Grassroots, man. take it out of the urban centres and to the streets of cities and towns everywhere.

I feel so ALIVE!!

In a moment of passionate disgust, I posted a blog that aired my personal Biznas. It was a pointed blog that really didn't need to be read by anyone else but the one person I was frustrated with. I just wanted to leave the last line. I don't know why. I think I liked it. No, I did like it, still do.
You must know that my answering machine contains my voice. Get well acquainted, because that's the only falsehood of mine you've ever known and the only one that will listen now.

Tip of the week: When a girl/boy you are interested in gets up the eggs/balls to ask you to the movies, don't just say "YEAH, THAT WOULD BE GREAT!" and leave it at that. Ask for her/his number or email or something. Don't just leave it at "DEFINITELY! I'D LOVE TO!" You look like an idiot. (Now, you are asking yourself, was I the asker or the asked? I'm not telling, cause either way I'm a fool.)

Leaping Out of the Closet Marked "Feminist"

That does not mean I hate men

I finally found a place where I fit in, a place where I don't feel at all lessened by my breasts or genitalia: the Women's Centre on campus. I always want to talk about what I'm not, like "I'm not a supermodel" or "I'm not the beauty ideal" instead of talking about what I am: a confident, voluptuous woman who knows her body better than some stereotypical beauties. Some of you just started to squirm. Yes, I'm going to talk about my body. I can't dissect this strange personality without looking at this wonderful body I've been blessed with. I have two complete legs that I think are terrific. I have two working arms that are covered in magnificent freckles. My back is broad and straight. My face and hair hide a brain I'm more proud of than anything else. Women spend so much time dissecting their body. I spent a half an hour tonight trying to get my roommates to talk about their bodies positively, with the end result being that each one could pick out at least one thing that they liked about their outward appearence. I resolved a long time ago to never say anything negative about my body and it has resulted in a less-than-perfect, but strong, self image. I have a quirky sense of beauty in that I find the human form so fascinating. I would like a mate for the simple reason that I would like someone to explore, so I could enjoy knee pits without getting a funny look. I want to touch that spot right below the eyebrow where the skin is smooth even on the roughest face. I have a passion for scars. I adore their subtle nuances of texture, like a paisley fabric of skin, blushing out from a cloud of hair. Well, that's a far departure from my original topic of the Women's Centre, but I wanted to share that. I'm just trying to evolve.

Note: Saying I have a love/hate relationship with my genitalia is more the idea of my gender than my actual vagina itself. I have no problems with my physical genitalia but the problems that arise from what is (or isn't) between my legs. That statement was not a slam against my flower, as I so lovingly dubbed it. (If you weren't squirming before, you're squirming now.) :)

My genitalia and I have a love/hate relationship.

Just for your info: United for Peace the organizers of the global rally. Check it out, no seriously check it out!

PEACE RALLY!

I know I seem to be all talk, but this coming Saturday I'm heading to Toronto to participate in this global rally for peace. If one person reads this and heads to their cities rally, it will be worth it. If not, I wouldn't mind riding the bus with someone. :)

Come on Reading Week! What's taking you so long?! I swear, this week is going to be the longest week of my life. I know all I'm doing is going home, but I have to get caught up in my readings, and that is hard to do when my wonderful roommates are as anxious as I am. We just cannot seem to get out of each other's faces.
Countdown to Reading Week: 6 days.

Check out this shit, my friends. The Clock block and industrious clocks portions are really superb as are the fingertrack portions. Just check it out. :) You'll enjoy it.

Never in a Canadian Newspaper

Based on a recent news event.
7 children killed in an avalanche. The Canadian officials have ruled out the possibility of terrorist involvement.

You know what I'm talking about. Don't pretend you don't know. I was greeted by a similar statement on Saturday morning, and I laughed. Sometimes, in fact, a lot of the time, I think my neighbours are fools.

My parents are intellegent people, but their comprehension skills are lacking. They don't seem to understand that I want to stay in Waterloo for the summer. I find it too difficult to do the back and forth thing, so I want to settle somewhere even if it is not really a home. My parents seem to believe that Reading Week will be for job searching in Sarnia. I was also talking about getting a job in Waterloo, when my da remarked, "Well, you'll have to lie to them, because they'll never hire you for just two months." I thought they understood my intent, but apparently they do not. I'm sorry, all my peeps in the S-dot, but I'm tired of that city.