I was never a minute or hour counter. Hours and minutes are too slippery. I've always been a day counter. The passage of the sun marks my time. He moved out of the days. I don't know when I stopped counting. It just seemed that days became slippery hours and minutes. I could count the weeks and the months, but without the days, how do I know exactly? He was logic and reason, where I was emotions and sensations. Emotion has no use for time; sensation has no means of counting. Time has lost much of its relevance in my personal life. People who were constants are now the ones I'm counting; people who were the counted are calling, laughing, noticing when I sigh. I don't think I've ever felt so young as I do right now.

Just be sure it's balanced, Libra...

I hate: the feminist stereotype of the hairy, but short haired, "manly" woman
I hate: the need of North Americans to take, have, want
I hate: having to justify my taste in music, even though sound tastes are similar to tongue tastes: sometimes there is no logic, just an unpleasant taste
I hate: the smell of grease and car exhausts and Tim Horton's at the corner of Cathcart and Colbourne
I hate: that I am what I hate

Remember Balance

I love: the warm sun on my wind-cooled arm when I'm driving fast with my arm out of the window
I love: new people who have different ideals and beliefs than me, even though this may cause conflict, it means I am moving out of stagnancy
I love: the clean, fresh feeling of hard, sweaty work, especially creating or growing
I love: simple, uncomplicated sounds, like a creaking rocking chair, the crashing of Niagara Falls or a spoon tinkling against a coffee mug
I love: that I am what I love

I am so pissed at myself. I've been waiting for the new Harry Potter for 2 flippin' years, so what do I do? Finish it in two freakin' days. I don't know how to savour anything. It's the kind of book that could have taken me two weeks to finish if I had taken my time. Nooooooooo, Alysia, you can't do that. That isn't the way you work. Faster is better. Now, I want to read it again, but I got my reading lists for my fall classes and I wanted to get started on those books. Grrrrr.... Maybe I'll use it as my before bed reading instead of Grapes of Wrath, although I don't really know which book is more depressing. (I think Grapes wins, but the margin is just that for human error.) Now I have to wait for HP6. I hate my life. (Actually, I rocked the Casbah this weekend, so I'm not completely dissatisfied with myself. :) Life is chilling on a plateau with Jesus.)

Over-Compensating For What I'm Not Complete Without

I'm not sure if anyone else does this or if I'm alone here, but I'm going to share with you. Some people that I know see a beautiful person and try to bring themselves closer to that image. They'll go to the gym or buy the same shade of lipstick. They'll buy that shirt or wear their hair that way. Me: I see a beautiful person and I want to stop what I'm doing and read a really good book. I carry a book around in my purse for that reason. I know I'll never have that kind of physical beauty, so why try so hard? I guess I figure if I can make my brain beautiful enough it will give me the kind of beauty that I lack. I hope to overpower my ugh with shear brain-power. Some days I feel it working, like when someone says they've always wanted to talk to me but I was just "too smart". That's a "too beautiful" reaction. (He was smarter than me; I just talk more. ;)) Maybe that slice of intelligence translates into confidence for me, and confidence is often equated with beauty. If you can look at beauty like a mirror, I envy you. I should mention that it isn't just human beauty that I do that with, but ads throw the highly sexualized human form in our faces, and I'm addicted to media. But if I see a beautiful tree, I have to go read. It's a good thing I see beauty in just about everything. I'd be quite the idiot if I didn't. *sticks face in Waiting for Godot*

As some of you may know, I like to keep my hair ubershort. After my most recent hair cut, I was surfing the internet after a shower, when I came across what I have deemed "the hairhawk". It's when someone wears a mohawk without the sides shaved. A good example: Bloomin' Picture Yes, I realize there is a problem in that I am a woman and he, unfortunately, is not. It's gives you an idea though. It's like that but with ultrafeminine make-up and tailor clothes. It looks quite nice in fact. My sister acted so shocked when I showed her my outfit for the wedding. "Alysia, you can actually pull that off." Unfortunately, I can't wear it to work. My boss would freak. I would go full hawk but I like choice too much for that. :)

Note:Today, my parents best friend said "It looks like a bird." (It's true. It just took an older person to notice.) Also today, my sister said it looked better than any of my other hair styles. Damn you, mixed reviews!

Congratulations, Cat and Mike!

So, my good friends Cat and Mike got married today. I don't know if you're like me, 20 with no plans for wedlock, but this shit is fuckin' with my head. I'm happy for them, because I think they're both flippin' fantastic people, but it's strange. My date was my good friend Davey, and we both were a little mistified because this was the first time either of us had ever been to a wedding without our parents. (40 years ago and we would probably be wed by now.) It's a combination of the way I see marriage and the way I see my friends that is causing this turbulance. You don't have to agree with me, but I see marriage as a means of control, bondage for life. I also see my friends as free spirits, free thinkers. I just can't understand marriage, but of course I run from my partners after 3 months. I get scared. My friend Jen was saying that she missed her boyfriend when we were at the wedding, and I was like, "right there. I'd be at the phone, saying 'Thanks, but no.' That would scare the shit out of me. " I never planned my wedding dress, picked out 'the perfect song', thought about when, where, who, just why usually followed by 'the fuck would I want to?' I hung out with cynics for too long. Much of my belief has been eroded by statements like my marriage sentiments: why the fuck bother. Guess it's just not a fight I want to have.

Here's a nice little tale about how I'm a big idiot face. So, I'm at work talking to the main receptionist waiting to cover for her during her lunch, asking her what she wants me to do while she is out. She's explaining as I lean against the counter/desk. My hands are wandering away from me, as they usually do when I don't keep them biting my nails or pulling my lip, and they managed to find what they thought was one of those buttons one might find on a new desk which is actually a hole to put cords through. I pressed what I thought was a cord button, only to find that I had in fact pressed the panic button. The Receptionist is howling at me, barely able to tell me that she has to let the police know not to come she's laughing so hard. We couldn't figure out how to turn the alarm off, so it went for about 15 minutes. Our neighbours were over asking what the matter was, which ellicited more laughter from the receptionist as I sheepishly explained what I'd done. My boss was out at the time, so the receptionist told me about how my boss had once pressed the panic button "just to see what it would do". I'm not sure whether I would feel any better if I had pressed it on purpose. Doubtful, though it was pretty cool to see a panic button in action.