I see past these walls the city builds. Like a rat, standing on hind legs, peering over the maze. I am still a rat, but I have seen things that cannot be unseen. I know the world is full of wonders, past the maze of humanity that we've all gotten lost in. I know not what greets me at the exit, but I know it will be better than these mindless meanderings through this every-day drag-on. I am freed from these shackles with the key of a broader mind.



slippery slime slips, drips, sinking slinking and you're thinking you could be sick, but the thick slips down with a frown, but stays, plays, eyes wide, smiling. laughing. feeling good. good mood food. nibble giggle repeat. sip, skip and smile, for a little while. magic cactus, bitter citrus slips in cutting muck, slimy, stuck. sticking, licking lips, taking sips.


happy chrustmas

my room is a mess. my head is a mess. This holiday stress has left no room for sanity. It was go go go; preparations for today. Christmas. And every year I wonder why I bothered. it isn't the same as when I was a child. this day has lost all of it's magic. But the only magic there ever was, was from the plethora of presents I saw under the tree as a child. It was all about the presents, all about getting. Now, it's more about giving, but I want to give more than consumer goods. So this year I crocheted most gifts; put time and effort in, instead of money. But the inner child still lives within, expecting more than I should. And every year I am disappointed. it's more than just the gifts, it's the unfulfilled Christmas spirit in this home. We are a dysfunctional family, and maybe I'm a terrible daughter, but at times I can't stand my family. I cant stand when my mother gets drunk and acts immature, when it's all about her. I can't stand the feigned family togetherness. the day drags on and on, and i am stuck between an ill fitting duality of expectations, jarred edges, the myth that christmas day will be different than any other day. But nothing has changed, the day has no magic to rectify our family dynamic, only magnify its faults. And I am left grappling in the gap created. An abyss of absent-mindedness.
And then like that, it's over for yet another year. Like it didn't even happen.



November 6th 2011
11:11 PM
I wish that I’ll never have to come home to my father taking refuge in the cold garage in his black sweatpant and teeshirt after-work wear any more. I wish that for once things will be ok. That I wont need to recede into invisibility behind my closed bedroom door and pretend there isn’t a lion pacing its lair on the upstairs floor. I wish that I won’t need to cram my schedule full of extracurriculars so I can pretend this doesn’t exist and I am not a part of it. I wish I’d never be sad again. Never let the tears wield their terrible power over me. Never let them choke me and punch me in the gut until I can’t stand strait and I crumble. I wish I could be stronger; That I could be better with dealing with everything, and anything. I wish I could be simpler; Easier to understand, so that my partner could read me like a cook book. Find the right recipe to make me happy, and follow the simple steps. But I am Shakespeare to the high school drop-outs, I’m impossible to interpret without hours of mental input, and it drives so many away. I wish there was a spark notes for me. So the ones who cared could decipher, filter and figure me out. And I’d be simple again. I wish I had never grown out of make believe. Wish I could still cook recipes in the bird bath and drink from the hose when I got thirsty and escaped into a safe world. I wish my world was smaller. Wish I wasn’t aware of the horrors of humanity, the greed and the apathy that has driven our race into the mud. I wish I had more faith in myself. Wish I could share my thoughts in real time, instead of writing them down and hiding behind a poem in order to speak.
I wish for a lot of things. But I only need one wish to come true. for the strength to grant my wishes myself.


I’m walking around like a haemophiliac in a knife shop. One slip and it could end badly, the tears will never stop. I can’t clot my emotions and let them dry up and fall away. They stay with me, seeping deeper until they poison my bloodstream. And I wish I could scream, convert the pain into sound instead of drowning in the sorrow. I’ll be fine by tomorrow, I know, but right now I’m bleeding. Reeling on an ocean of emotion and the storm isn’t slowing.

chakra test

your Root Chakra is CLOSED you tend to get stuck in an unfulfilling and unrewarding career, and you never seem to have enough money, which leaves you worried and in debt. Spending money is a harrowing experience for you, as you doubt your ability to budget effectively. You suffer from weight or body issues, which leave you feeling unworthy and uncomfortable in your own skin.

your Sacral Chakra is STRONG, you see sex in a positive light, as a glorious, pleasurable and healthy activity. You enjoy passionate, frequent and long-lasting sex with your partner. Orgasms are mind-blowing, and you and your partner often orgasm at the same moment. You make time to have sex at least a few times a week, even if you've been married or attached to the same person for years. You are always able to attract the right partners; compatible people who nourish you, fill you with joy and make you a better person.

your Personal Power Chakra is CLOSED. you tend to struggle with self-esteem issues, and feelings of unworthiness. You tend to question yourself when faced with important decisions like whether to move to another city, change your career, get married to your partner or to have children. You feel like a victim in the world, and often feel powerless to circumstances and other people's desires. You may also suffer from frequent stomach pains and stomach anxiety.

your Heart Chakra is STRONG, you enjoy comfortable, loving and empathic relationships at home, at work and in your community. You get along with your family. Your friends see you as a reliable person. At work, you're known as the one people can talk to. You feel a heartfelt sense of gratitude for how wonderful your life is, and feel compassion for all around you.

your Throat Chakra is CLOSED, you constantly feel like nobody cares about your opinions, and that you have nothing of value to say. You're likely to be known as the 'quiet one' in your professional and social circles, and you frequently settle with following other people's opinions. You often suffer from a blocked and sore throat.

Iyour Intuitive Chakra is WEAK, you have the tendency to feel helpless or lost when faced with decisions and judgment calls. You are indecisive, uncommitted and unconfident of the decisions you end up making, because you have a history of making the wrong ones. You feel spiritually lost, and your true purpose is unclear to you. You often get headaches and feel tension in your brow area.

your Crown Chakra is WEAK, you tend to feel little or no connection to a higher power, and always feel alone. You feel unworthy of spiritual help, and perhaps even angry that your higher power has abandoned you. You often suffer from migraines and tension headaches.


Found this today, snooping places I shouldn't, because it is like quicksand. Your blogs freeze moments, emotions in static time, I can read them, and like a photograph, be back in that time and place. Back to those feelings of guilt, the pain and the confusion for both of us. Life went on in a seemingly different universe. Parallel to everything now, slightly overlapping, and yet forever away. And since it's so close but so far, it's always there, a shadow over my shoulder, but I can't grasp it, rip it up and destroy it. it is like the air I breathe. For as long as I live I am breathing the same air as you. And you are always there. intangible but always fucking present. I can almost recognize your face in my clouded exhales.

Indian Giver (I turned my back)
Today at 12:00am
You are a shadow now. And I can't conjure the image that was printed on my eyelids after each breath between us. The words I draw are heavy and reluctant, hanging onto the tissues of my mind with tiny frozen fingers. I feel I need to put you to phrases. But I've thrown all my effort into forgetting it all. Pushed my shoulder against the door to keep your memory out. Put the blinders made of distance up because I didn't want to hurt. I didn't need to see the destruction lain in my wake, the razor blades of silence, pins and needles of new love. You're numb and alone and So thick in my dust as I sped off that I don't see you. Because I turned my back. Out of sight, out of my mind, but I know I sit in yours, fermenting, stewing in God knows what. And I've rooted a poison in you. because I turned my back. And I tore you down, I ripped you up and sent you to the wind. And I have searched for those fragments but the time as snatched them away from me and it served me right. Because I turned my back, and the world went on behind it. I didn't want the problems of another clamoring in my head, trying to prevent the premature death of my found soft silence. I turned away from each piercing smile each sodden tear each silly word written on paper and sent to you. I took away those promises of forever and the poems of true love. Obsolete ideas, I paid them no mind, they held no weight. Turned away from the safety in your arms, hidden in the eye of the storm as hell broke loose around us. I blamed it on change, the inevitability as time passes and tears the canvas down with relentless fingernails. I can't say what's to blame but I know I'm the only one at fault. I want this to speak I'm sorry. I don't know how I wrote this, it was not planned. But now that it's out the first step has been taken.

from dre

iv read this over and over in my head....upsetting me more and more every time =( im lost in the words again, of what used to be... a cluster of feelings and emotions all trying to express at the same time; but since they cant escape i shut down. hoping that reading it again i will understand. hoping that id see it how your emotions would express it. do you want me out of your life for good?? or are you saying the opposite¿¿ i honestly dont know... but im glad you do understand that i went from #1 to ignored in a matter of 1 day and im glad to hear that you just pushed me out......... what were those ilu from behind the door?? were they just words? what do you mean the 1st step has been taken? to hurt and cofuse me more?!? i dont know im so lost and full of mixed feelings....i care to much and i wonder if i should care the way you do? but y would i force a friend away................
^^ from brent's blog.

tell me,

what would you do if you put your life blood, your sweat into making the ones you loved happy, so much it ran you dry. so much you didnt know what it was like to make yourself happy. What would you do when you were drained and no matter how hard you tried to put it behind you, tell yourself it's worth it to hurt and bleed for people who only half notice, you can't make yourself happy? What would you do?
It's like shoving a puzzle piece into an empty spot that doesn't quite match up, yet you try and try because you want to feel whole, you want to feel complete. But in the end the edges of the whole you foolishly tried to fill start to throb and hurt and you feel emptier than you did before, all you've managed to do is draw attention to the gape.

Wow. I wrote this over two years ago. It's hard to believe the choices I made. The things I did and how I justified ripping myself open every day for this one person. What sort of fucked up mental illness did I have that made me turn my back on myself to please someone who would never be saved? Why did I throw myself into the middle of a busy road to make sure he wouldnt be harmed? how many times did I almost kill myself? No, I was never close to death. He was my reason for living, even though every day drained the energy from me. I dried myself out, withered and weak. He was an emotional vampire. feeding off my love, but never changing. only sucking dry my limited stores of compassion. I don't understand why I let him do this to me.

What fucked love spell was cast about me that I became practically suicidal? Slitting my happiness for his. I wanted to help him so fucking bad. But he didn't understand. Didn't understand the gravity of what I was giving. He was a man dying of thirst who let water slip through his fingers. Stupid. foolish, thinking the flow would continue forever. But even love has its boundaries. and he pushed and kicked for so hard and long that they broke one day. and the water crashed upon the ground and was absorbed in seconds, leaving him parched, and leaving me broken in hundreds of pieces on the gasping ground.

I will never understand why.



you're never gone. why can't you fucking leave?
I want so bad to be free of your memory. I don't want to keep thinking about you, but I can't help it. It's not because I miss you. Not because I still care. I don't. I'm cold as a fall morning for you. Void of feeling. Yet you still have the ability to have my heart in a choke hold. You seep back in when i reveal my cracks. And you will make me crumble. You confound me. Why do you hold this power over me, two years after? Why did I have to ever meet you. Why did I subject myself to you, or was it to me? to my weakness, to my faults, my love. My goddamned bleeding heart. You hypnotized me, moth to bright obscuring light. debilitating. You found me when I was young. Soft and shape-able. you held firm, until your fingerprints were printed on my flesh, impressed upon me permanently. And when I finally left you I hardened my skin, became rigid baked clay. But I didn't think to smooth your marks away, and now I am left with them. And I want so much to just sand my edges down, but I'm afraid I will be reduced to dust, because you run so deep I can't even find the bottom of you. And now I must find a way to rehydrate my skin and smooth out your wrinkles once and for all. And this is where I am lost for where to begin. I open up the wounds, talk, write, share, in a hope it will disinfect and stitch up with string that leave no scars. But there is no end to you. And you are so enweaved with my brain synapse highways that I will always stumble across you, trip the switch to bring it all crawling back. Like a zombie, hungry for me. emotions dead yet undead, unwilling to ever give up.
What did I do wrong?


In a rut

I bite my tongue, suck it in and swallow. Let words wallow and wilt in a cell that I build for all those that never made it out. Silenced by my doubt and left to sink down my esophagus, seared by stomach acid, they smolder. Growing older, growing stale, I fail to cultivate, to mitigate the weight of words solidifying, not trying to save them from a useless state.

I’ve got indigestion from all the unconventional confections I've been ingesting, testing my limits. I’ve got heartburn, because I never learned to chew my food. I swallow whole sentences in one bite despite it being rude. But it’s a habit I’ve fallen into, a pit I’ve slipped into and can’t escape. I can’t shape a sentence worth sharing, not caring to be a part of the conversation. I have no declarations I deem fit for telling, no ideas that I’m selling at any price. I think twice about speaking and by then I’ve lost my chance. It’s a dance I don’t know the moves to.

Like changing lanes in heavy traffic, if i hesitate i am lost, so at the cost of raising questions i chose to stay in my lane. not changing my habits to fit into the flow. i slow down and turn down a side street where i can breathe, sit, park and watch as others lead the chase. I can't seem to face up to being part of that race to nowhere. I can fake it but I’m always half a beat behind, and I find it easier to just stop, take the time to think, and if the words sink to my stomach half chewed once more, at least I’ll have stores of ideas for when winter comes and they’re hard to come by.

But stomach full and mouth shut,I'm in a rut.

dog walk

This evening, as me and my sister were walking the dogs around the block, an old lady commented on their beauty. having heard this a thousand times, I laugh and say thanks, and we keep walking. but she calls back to us, asking us where the bus stop is. Then she explains why she is here; she works with the disabled, and came here after work because her girlfriend had smokes, but she couldn't get a hold of her in the end, and I forget why, but she was headed to the Rocky view hospital. She told us she had breast cancer, had both her boobs chopped off. We reply with the usual "oh, that sucks" but she stops us, and tells us its great because she's on powerful painkillers. Then she turns her attention to our dogs, and told us that she used to house sit for a 110 year old man who worked in the oil rigs and was gone for long periods of time, and he had an untrained Samoyed whom she would cuddle up with at his big fireplace. but the dog would drag her on her stomach 20 yards when they went for walks and it saw a rodent. Then she went on to tell us about her pets: 19 wild feral cats, 5 of which she owns, two parrots, one macaw, and a couple rabbits. her house is full of poop. And on that note she left to follow our directions and we turned the corner and went home.
Twas an interesting and enjoyable walk.


last ma phone

And im lost. left grappling, reeling in this absence. i feel... empty. alone and unprepared. what if i miss something. someone is trying to contact me and I cannot reply. But why does it vex me so? i am tense, to borrow a word, ever wondering what is happening on my cell, which lies somewhere in a house on the other side of town, found or unfound, sitting. possibly ringing. probably silent and no one is missing me or me their messages. yet i can't relax. How will i contact my friend tomorrow on break? how will i tell the time? Why did i ever stop wearing a watch? because my cellphone was always there. it was dependable, a part of me i never left home without. i was constantly in the thick of it. at the touch of a finger i could summon anyone. plan anything. meet up with anyone without a hitch. but now....i've dropped off the grid. I am untouchable. i should revel in this, my few hours of freedom. i have an excuse to be absent. relax and not bother with anyone. let them find me if they so wish, but it will be harder. and only the truly important will be communicated. only with true need will i be called upon. no flimsy hellos and how are yous and i'm bored please talk to me's. back to basics. but still. i am afraid of my invisibility. I quest for the meaningful interactions, the things that make time float easier by. i have created a second state of being, of being here nor there, but in both places half way so. never quite truly dedicated to my state of being. my presence was split, sitting on a fence between two places, barely balancing. but now i have the chance to immerse myself completely, take a break from the habit that ripped my concentration in half. it was an excuse. an escape route. i could check myself out at anytime when life wasn't all that I wanted. it was a habit, i'll admit it, a treat when each text arrived, and id dive for my phone every time it showed a sign of outside life. i couldnt quit it, couldnt see why I shouldnt have it.
but here i am. unable to connect with this other dimension, and i'm starting to reflect, This is a good thing. Free my mind so i can focus on the now, not always one step ahead, head in the clouds, eyes looking down as i walk eyes fixed on this hopeless little screen. I can look up. And i think i'll like what I see.


free write, still on my mind >:(

I remember the walk to your house. Well almost. I remember the walk past the superstore, where you had been banned from for stealing eyeliner. I remember your parent’s basement. The bar couches, a tv, the pictures of you as a child with mouth gear. I remember the way your teeth looked when I first met you. I was disgusted. And it took so long to fix, but if it hadn’t been for me they wouldn’t be salvaged. I never understood a lot of you. I was too young, and too in the middle of it to realize what was happening. You intrigued me so. And now you’re just a memory. Scraps of you float through me once in a while. Like I’m living in a minefield and you could be set off at the slightest touch and I’d be assaulted with recollections. I never thought I’d be free of you. You clung to me even after death, with clamped fingers. You would not lose me. And I wanted to run, far away, but I couldn’t do it. Only now have I deleted you off facebook. Now there will be no contact to you. None of your random comments, because a comment always leads to more. You find a way to grasp me again, and attempt to pull me back. But you are truly a memory. I will never see you again. Never have to be subjected to your powers of pity, of energy draining. I loved you tirelessly, but inside I was exhausted. Drained of my will of my own life, you always mattered more to me than me and now I don’t understand. My past is a stranger to me. I cannot relive the way I thought things, weighed choices. I don’t know how I loved you. If I met you today I would not fall as I once did. I have wider eyes now. A bigger heart now, a better life now. You caught me at the perfect time; When I was vulnerable, naïve and lonely. Scared for my future at too young of an age. You got me at my weakest. A lion weeding out the sick.
we both fell harder than we had expected. In different ways. You loved me ridiculously, like a lost puppy. And I was the one who took pity and couldn’t resist those eyes.
you’re welcome for the help. The thousand dollars gone and never returning, spent on nothing of any use. You’re welcome for my attempts at helping you. getting you a dentist to take off your braces, you didn’t even go to the last appointment. My parents too, helped you tirelessly. My mom, trying to find you jobs, or get into government help programs. You turned it all away. You weren’t smart enough to realize what a great thing you had. You were so entrenched in your horrid ways of life, finding more enjoyment in getting stoned and blowing your” paycheck” on useless paraphernalia. You took advantage of me. And it worked. You got what you wanted. Someone who loved you too much to not try and help, by giving you bus tickets, money for your phone card, inviting you over for free meals, and so much more.
Fuck you. I want to be rid of your memory so bad. But you keep popping up, because so much of who I am today is because of you. You thickened my skin and wizened my mind. You’ve helped me grow up. Too bad you never did.


stupid rant.

sigh. it's friday, 9:20 am, i'm watching the daily show before I go to school, and i'm on the laptop playing a silly fb game. my mom comes down stairs, and says good morning whilst in the middle of a loud yawn. I didnt reply because it sounded like she was making some of her odd stretching yawning noises. then she irately repeats it, and as i reply, she gets angry with me, thinking i didn't reply because i was distracted by the computer. then she proceeds to tell me her kids are driving her crazy. then she brings up europe, and how she drve us crazy. trying to alleviate the tension i joked "so we're even then? :P " she didnt pick up any humor and retaliated with "well you were driving me crazy, as was dave, and that's why i drove you crazy. so no. we are far from even." hooray, it's all about her, always. She complains about spending two hoours cleaning the counters in the kitchen, cleaning our bathroom etc, but she never asks us to do it, and now that I'm taking 5 courses, working 3 nights a week and going to chiropractic twice a week, I'm supposed to have time to find every thing that needs doing and do it without her offering a suggestion? it would be a different story if she'd asked me to help out and I didn't, but I am not a mind reader. i am not an amazing child who can put all my troubles aside and go out of my way to find chores instead of doing homework or resting.
blah. maybe i can refine these feelings into a poem instead of a boring whiney rant.


free write of September 14th

I enjoy mushrooms and acid, and could see myself using them in the future for various escapades. Just that coming up, the butterflies in my stomach already high, flying in a frenzy that almost makes me lose my lunch. I guess that’s what you get for introducing a foreign substance into a body so fine tuned for reality. I don’t know why humans are so entranced by altering what we regard as normalcy. Maybe we are constantly dissatisfied with what we know, and those of us unfit for scholarly expansion of the brain take to drug fuelled expansion of the mind. Then there’s me, who’s a happy mix of both. I guess I always want to learn; both about the planet around me and the world inside my head. It’s a weird mix. I don’t know what I’d classify myself as. A scholar, only by the fact I’m spending more time in university than any of my other friends. I’m a learner. A ponderer; I am constantly attempting to quench some intangible thirst I feel, for anything. The world around me will never lose its wonder. I could learn for my whole life and still not know nearly enough. So I pair academia with my own teachings. My philosophies, brought on by altered views from illegal substances. When I’m buzzed I see the earth in a whole new way, a way that sciences can’t teach; only I myself can discover. I’m left wondering about the energy particle duality of electrons in the context of the human duality of physical and soul. I make connections no course can supply me with, and I will never get the answers to, but the sheer questioning is all that is important. I am a constantly unsatiated (screw you red squiggly line, I can make up words if I want), always have a roiling hunger inside me that I can only guess what to satisfy it with. So I take pieces of anything I can understand and place it there, and piece by piece I am becoming full. But never enough to make me stop searching.


free write

richard, my poetry teacher, encourages free writes. letting go of all pretences and planning and
just writing, not correcting words or anything. so this is mine for the day, randomness included.

Im fucking empty. Of motivation, of anything to do. I sit on my bed and wait for life to happen. The house is empty too. My phone sits like a stubborn friend, unwilling to talk to me. Dinner sits almost ready on the stove but no one shows. I haven’t been outside for 5 hours. I’m supposed to go to a party, but once again my phone has ducktape over its mouth. I’m hungry but I don’t jknow what to do about it. Eat of course would be the logical solution, conclusion, w/e. but I have no energy. Im in a depressive state. Tv shows and alternate realities affect me in a way im almost ashamed to admit. Im so emotionally invested in these characters that I fall directly into what they “”” want me to fall into. Ill keep watching of course.

I just spilt oils on my desk. Or it had fell over and I just noticed now because of the smell. My room is a mess. Another thing I cant find the energy to do anything about. Guess the universe’s laws have won this time. No energy will be spent to save me from chaos.
I guess the laws of physics relate to human life as well. Energy is needed inorder to maintain order. To keep up grades, your job, relationships. But once you stop inputting energy, in accordance with the universe, things will naturally lead to the most disorganized state. I think I only have enough energy for certain things. School, only because money is a factor and that’s always a great motivator. My few friends, though that easily slips of the side of the table. Then my boyfriend, who I could never give up on. I think because he gives me energy, we seem to convert useless “other word for energy” lmao. Into some magical propellant. Maybe I’m getting high off the fumes. I don’t know. Love’s the only engine of survival, according to mr cohen, and it’s true. Through love we find the power to move forward through time and space, regardless of outside forces that sap our energy through friction, gravity, and slow us down. I am constantly being fed new fuel by my partner that I can use it in other aspects of my life. But if that well ever ran out I would have to find another source, or learn to love everything which I do, which is no easy feat.
today i was almost hit by a police car who had turned its lights on as I was almost passed him in an intersection. He turned the corner onto my road and nearly tboned me because he had taken an unnecessarily wide turn into the second lane (the one I was in.) I slam on my breaks before he acctually hit me, stalled the car, and the police officer pulls up beside me and yells in my window"when my lights are on you stop! stop means stop!!!" and I blabber a "yes, im sorry im sorry" and he drives away. This shock sent me into tears, and as I pull up to the next red light this guy pulls up beside me and tells me I was in the right and that the cop was being a giant douche. I thanked him as best I could through sobs. My heart was pounding and I felt like such a bad person, and totally frazzled and freaked about almost getting in my first accident and with an effin' police car to boot, that I can't stop crying. And Scott beside me tries to calm me down, and I could tell he didn't think I should be crying. This of course made me cry even more, and the cycle deepened until I couldn't keep my eyes dry without a constant deliberate effort. Every now and then the too-fresh memory would creep back in, and I'd feel a twinge and let a tear slip, trying my best to keep it secret. Then the fact that I had to try and pretend like I wasn't still upset made me feel worse. The only thing that got me out of the rut was weed and a show by taylor cochrane.
I cry alot, more than I should, and I'm aware of it. I've been getting better, but every now and then, especially in such extraneous situations, I can't hold it in any longer. And the best thing for me is to get it out, and then on my own time I will breathe myself back to normalcy. But I guess I get self conscious in such a fragile state, that I can't handle anyone's disapproval. It just rips another wound for me to bleed from.


ill elaborate when im not dead tired

he said we are all vessels but I am like an urn.
holding ashes I've collected every time I've been burnt.
I'm full and I'm heavy with these cindered reminders
unable to empty out and start over.



i don't know what it is but i cant stand you anymore. maybe because I've been with you for 6 weeks straight. then i got two weeks of freedom, glorious freedom, and it's hard to come back to living in this house, with you, with whom i now associate all the wonderful memories of arguments that you could never bare to lose, the days spent waiting at each corner for you as you lagged behind inconsiderately taking pictures.
my friend told me last night, in alcohol fuelled praise, that you were real. that she had incredible respect for you. and i just couldn't agree. you're real only in the sense that you let us know exactly what is on your mind without bothering if it upsets us. but you don't take the time to listen to me, to consider my opinions, because everything anyone else thinks is completely illogical and a waste of time. you can't grasp that you're views aren't one size fits all. they don't work for everyone; especially not me. You can't let me make my own decisions without screening them through your radar first, and so many of them I need to fight in order for them to make it through. You disregard my efforts to be selfless and help people in need because you deem them illogical. you always put yourself first.
but the worst thing is that now you're back to drinking. You and daddy both. You had done so well in your program, and I had begun to think that things were changing. But the allure of european liquor was too much, and you got caught up in it, using the trip as an excuse to relapse. and now that we're back you haven't stopped. I'm glad I havent been around to see if any fights have arose, as they always do, thanks to your drinking. All I know is I see way too many of my dad's beer cans around the house than i'd like to. and there is always an open bottle of wine in the kitchen. you guys drink more than I do and it's sad. I just wish you could have had the willpower to stop once you got back, to realize the vacation is over and it's back to being parents, not alcoholics. I'd hoped that you would do it for me and my sister, but i guess your selfishness spreads to this too.
but I'm just as bad. I'm never going to talk to you about this. never going to tell you how i feel, because I've given up hope. every time I try to let you know you're hurting me you turn it back on me, pretty much telling me I'm a baby and I should be mindful and just not let it bother me that much. Well life doesn't work that way. you've somehow gotten away with living in your own world where you're queen and you don't have to compromise with anyone. It's because we're all scared, and tired of opening our hearts to you only having them ripped apart or ignored, and nothing gets resolved. so why even bother right?
ugh this is so unhealthy. I don't know what I'm going to do. All i can do is pour out my feelings here so i can not explode when it becomes too much to handle. i have an outlet and you never have to hear it. win win right?


the house is empty but my mind is full. rampant with every day ramblings forming a kaleidoscope collage of every day living. i think that's why I've had a headache for three days. and scott's got me feeling guilty for taking Tylenol. which is probably a good thing. I enjoy painkillers, because I am so often in pain. and so often i can't handle it. there are a few things i can't handle. pain, conversations, people being angry with me. I try and avoid conflict as much as possible, but that's a fool's errand. I'm living a lie, but I do it well. But every now and then the walls crumble and I'm left asphyxiated in the dust. choking on my tears as the all too familiar depression worms its way in to my chest. I often find myself wrapped in Scott's arms running a broken record through my head. The sadness is addictive and I'm lured in, but then i hate myself for it, for scaring my lover, for hurting him. this then makes me cry harder because I'm too weak. It takes a lot to pull myself out of that quicksand. But last night, in my first episode in a very long time, I broke free. I focused on deep breaths and eventually the tears stopped. It's so tempting to let the negativity engulf me; it feels good in a sick way. But it felt so much better to look at Scott and see pride, see relief instead of concern. I could be strong and pull myself out all on my own, through will power and love for him.
we've been living together while i house sit, and it's been a fun social experiment. we work well together and our relationship is evolving. a couple days ago i used the word boyfriend and it seemed wrong. it seemed like we'd outgrown it, which i liked. we settled on partner, because that's what we are. we help each other, offer support, love and stability at all times. we are equal, above all. It's a beautiful thing. something I never even imagined I'd be experiencing.
I've told him a lot about my past relationships, and looking back with perspective they were pretty unhealthy. I was a young girl desperate for love and so happy that someone liked me that I was willing to put up with an unnecessary amount of emotional wounds. they've healed but they've left scars, to always remind me of what I went through in order to get what i truly deserved. I don't regret it, but I'm really happy that I'm no longer that young girl, instead I'm a woman who's finally found her man, and above all finally found true happiness.


I've been collecting feathers
in the hopes that I'll fly away.
but my feet stay planted in the ground
I haven't found enough to overcome gravity.
so I make them into earrings
in hopes that they can at least help me hold my head high


we are weaved in with telephone wires, 'chemtrails', patchworking the sky.
and the world doesn't look so great behind prison bars


i cant quite get a grasp on you. you've built a protective web to surround you, but you let it slip when shit went down around you. problems with the girlfriend, now ex. you did your best to play the bigger man. but i saw the stilts where your feet should have been. i don't want to be mean but i feel someone needs to get the truth out. cuz we know nothing about you. The funny thing was, your ugly side was predicted in a tarot spread. i shook my head and said that cant be. but the reader could see the real you that came through not long after. i let out disbelieving laughter when your guise fell. you broke the spell that had me transfixed like a moth to a bright light. but in hindsight, you played the game well. no wonder so many fell in love with your words and your wit. you knit yourself a pretty little sweater, but we found the loose thread. so think ahead before you plan to trick another girl into thinking your world is the place to be. Because she'll see before long that you're wrong. so wrong.


i feel so disconnected. And I'm infected with this feeling, reeling in this madness, trying to deflect the coming sadness that comes with deprivation.

ah fuck it.



I saw him, the first time in 40 days, like a dream coming to life. Grin brimming, I unlocked the door and rushed like a magnet to my main attraction. He looked different since I'd left, shorter hair, longer beard, but those eyes shone with the same intensity, those arms grasped with familiar fervor. And those lips. Heavenly warmth that melted the world away and I was lost in an ocean of dripping skies, holding him close, my rock, my safety, anchored after an eternity of strange seas. I vowed never again to let distance drive a stake between us. If I ever leave he will be my partner through it all and not a correspondence at the other end of a skype call.


poetic rants.

Her camera shoots a thousand victims, capturing them, imprisoning them in a memory card thatll never again see the light of day. Shell stash them away, where theyll stay because no one will want to waste their time watching slideshows of the slow progression of twenty thousand frames. And its a shame because all this time she spends is in vain, all the painful waiting as shr takes her pictures taking her time. Amd its a crime to complain or to blame her for our pain because her wrath is worse than the acursed sound her shutter makes.

Despite your 'mindfulness' classes you cant be mindful of us as we stand in the italian afternoon sun, waiting for you as you lag behind. Dragging your fert as you hold your camera to your face in a constant vigil bexause youre terrified of an opportunity for photography to pass you by. You ignore our sighs and complaints, for they taint your perfect mood, and our moods mean nothing at all. You fall behind all the time, because your pictures are worth more than our feelings. And im left reeling in this conclusion, filled with confusion why yourr being so frigid, why your will is so rigid and theres no room for compromise. Cant you see it in oyr eyes tjat you upset us so? No. Because your eye is firmly set in your view finder, finding no solutions.


Less than a week left, and im itching to be home. My sister left to poland to be with her bf for the rest of the summer, and im stuck solitary with my parents, no siblings for solace. I feel a stranger in a strange land, in germany, where the language sounds too hostile for me to feel welcome. So many foomps and ahcks and stressed syllables. But we are returning to france today, back where i can speak and not feel terribly touristy. And ill get to see amanda! How exciting :)


Had a most vivid dream last night. Hung out with marysia petra and erin, like old times. Then me and mash went shopping and lost pet and erin. But we went to a party and met up with erin again but petra was gone. There were guys being stupid and jumping off balconies and staircases and one hurt himself and became unconcious. justine appeared out of nowhere and we decided to call 911. But it was in french and i couldnt tell them where we were. Meanwhile people were desecrating the unconcious guy, putting him in embarassing positioms, like sticking his hand down his pants. I was the only one concerned for him, cuz the 911 call was useless cuz i was on hold. I ran to erin who was teaching people to apply lipstick and getting ready for a date. I asked her for myphone because i had given it to her cuz i didnt have pockets. She told me she had lost it and had to go change her clothes. I wanted my phone to call scott because i thought he had been jumping off things as well and i wanted to be sure he was alright. But i was never able to find him, then i woke up. It was a very stressful and hectic dream and i dont feel rested at all


I've forgotten about this blog since ive been away. There's always so much happening, and yet nothing is changing. These places we see are fantastic, but I view them through clouded eye for my mind is elsewhere. I am the in-between, always. Present but always looking over my shoulder, the link in this family chain holding everyone in sight. My mother is always far behind, in her own world where life exists in film only and she must capture as much as she can before leaving. My father and sister glance only around them and make haste through these streets. And I am between, making sure my mother can tell which corner we turn down, if ever she looks up from her lens. She tells me it's her favorite sight, watching me watch out for her, head swivelled, searching. But i grow tired. It always takes twice as long for her to accomplish anything and we are left lagging around as she slowly makes he way to us. But regardless of our annoyance she continues without a second thought to us, happily eating through memory cards with unprecedented efficiency. (46gigs to date. How is that even possible?) and so now I long to be home, where there is nohing at all interesting to photograph, and if there is I won't have to be with her while she does.



I have little options for escspe, no physical reprieve,
locked in a car with four people, wishing i could leave.
The streets we travel are gorgeous but their beauty has no hold,
because im locked in a car with four people listening to arguments unfold.
My mothers will is rigid, convinced shes always right
and we have no legs to stand on, crushed beneath her might.
And so we sit in silence, me with my headphones in,
no point in waging war if theres no way you can win.


you have such beauty but you're too blind to see.
the only explanation for it is that your soul emits such bright light it's given you cataracts.


you have fire in your veins and you burn the air as you breathe it in. you are incinerating. creating beauty in the mere form of thoughts, caught behind your eyes, they make them shine like embers. I remember the first time I met you, the tips of your hair were bright red, and you said your father was a hairdresser. I thought that was rad. because my dad just worked for an oil company and I never thought it was interesting. But you looked like you had stories that needed telling. the way you carried yourself was compelling, as if you'd locked so many things in side you you couldn't help but drag your feet as you walked. But they were things you never talked about. I tried to pry them out but you clung to your secrets like a drowning man to a raft in a turbulent flow, afraid to let go. And one day i realized the only way to know, was to dive in with you. So i took off my shoes and swam in to that depth you kept tucked away, hidden beneath your wing like the whole world was hungry prey. But i wasn't just another hunter. For what it was worth I was more of a researcher. documenting a rare breed of woman, a seed fighting to germinate as everything threatened to terminate your determination, exterminate your foundations. and though your roots were resilient it still weakened you. I could see the cracks peeking through. hard as rock but soft as stone, you had grown in the hardest environment. fighting disillusionment in a world full of sinners by screaming from rooftops "listen world, I'm a winner, so don't try and take me down!" you've made a crown of flowers and you wear it like a queen, so much power for a girl of only nineteen

and it doesnt matter if you fell off that roof, because you had the strength to walk again. and its that very fact that makes me proud to call you my best friend.


Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?
'advertising has us chasing cars and clothes. working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.'
I don't want to fall into their traps. All I want from life is a reliable car to take me to far away places; a reliable body, stronger not skinnier, to carry me where cars cannot; a reliable house where I may rest at the end of the day; and a reliable man to be there by my side through and through.
i havent been able to write in forever. i set myself up, on your marks get set go, but I never hear the gunshot. I'm too busy planning what I'll one day write, fighting with myself when i cant get my legs moving properly. I stagger stupidly down the track, attacked by all my feeling of inadequacy. I haven't been able to find that perfect subject. I'm saving my poetic virginity for that ellusive mr right, but in reality im getting fucked in the ass by my pickyness. every subject is only as good as I'll make it, and i hate it. I have no inspiration because I'm holding my breath, waiting for the day something will take it away. I walk with tunnel vision, missing the details, the tidbits of life that happen constantly. I'm ferociously searching in all the wrong places, pursuing the wrong chases. I am running so fast, everything is a blur. I've forgotten how to sit still, patience has evaporated and been replaced with anxiety. I'm fighting a constant battle with my past and future self. My past endeavours hang around my neck like heavy gold medals, and they weigh me down. root me to the spot and I am unable to shed them and walk forward. I am in the shadow of my best, towering over me, taunting me that I wont write anything any better. And I'm tempted to believe their whispers. then i wont constantly force myself to squeeze out written diarrhea. And if I do manage to shit out a gem, then i'll be a welcome surprise and not a hemorrhaging affair.
I just used an extended poop metaphor. That's a first.


There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how

ever since school`s been out i`ve neglected my poetry. I never find the time or the inspiration to write. I feel like I`m saving myself for the perfect theme, but in doing so i just get fucked by the elusiveness of said subject. I need to write about the mundane. about the everyday, keeping my motors running so that when that certain perfect idea comes along my gears will run smoothly and not be clogged by the rust of disuse.
Easier said than done.
But lets give it a whirl.
My head is fuzzy from wine, and my heart tumultuous with emotion after a phone call with my love. I had left the party early because as always, when I drink I am drawn to him, and yearned to talk to him. I called him right as I left, hoping to squeeze in as many precious minutes before sleep ensnared him. In total I was granted 11 minutes and 31 seconds, talking about normal these and that's before he was engulfed in drowsiness and had to hang up. I don't fully understand how my mind works, and I really wish I did. Then maybe I could explain why I teared up as he was telling me he was tired and the conversation was about to terminate. the tears rolled down my cheeks as we said our I love yous and our good-nights, and I managed to feign normalcy until I hung up. Its times like these when I would love to be tough skinned, less sensitive, then I wouldn't break down at the slightest emotional upheaval. It's nothing new to me. I'll find myself unstable even talking with my poetry teacher, or anyone who seems to show genuine support and kindness. I am fraught with complexity. Maybe it's because I was under exposed to any emotional hardship when I was younger; no fights or drama to toughen my skin and teach my feelings how to behave. But it's more than that. I feel so emotionally attached to my lover that when our time is cut shorter than I wanted, or when plans change and I can't see him, it drives a stake through my heart. It's one of the things that can affect me so deeply. And I haven't yet decided if it's good or bad. I've sorta just accepted it as it is.
I'm unsure of if I want to change. It would be nice to have rhino skin, but then I would miss the soft touches that life offers me. the brush of lips against skin, the tug of a breeze through my hair, the slow heat of the sun overhead.


my imperfections have been exploited to fund the police department.


warning: personal stuff :P

Tonight I had my first encounter with the law. I had just made love to my boyfriend and we were relishing in the warm feelings of connection as we held each other close. When a rap on the side of our westfalia, followed by a voice 'city police, open your door.' knocked us from our heavenly perch. we scrambled to redress as inconspicuously as possible, and while scott got fully dressed i only managed to find a sweater to put on, and wrapped the rest up in blankets (how obvious that was.) so we open the door and they don't hesitate to tell us that the park is closed (oops..) and continued to ask if we were having a "shag" (who calls it that anymore?) and if we were smoking weed. They already assumed both these things and were determined to charge us for both. so they asked how much weed we had and we said not that much. They asked for all of it and scott gave them his newly purchased eighth. Luckily they believed that was all, and didnt take my three roaches and pipe other various paraphernalia. they ask us all our personal information, where we live, work, our phone numbers and our IDs. I'm thinkin oh shit, please dont call home. but they didn't, instead they make scott crush up his weed in a puddle then went back to their bikes and wrote up our tickets, leaving me to scramble to find my pants. we waited for them to return, wondering about our fate. they came back in 5 minutes, telling us they wont charge us for the weed or call our parents, but they'll give us both tickets for it, as well as having sex in a park (100$ there) and another fine for being in a park after they close (another 100$!) and we have to pay them in a month or else they go to warrant.
well aint that just greaaaat. We are both trying to save up so we can make expensive repairs to scotts car or possibly buy a new one, not to mention paying security deposit on a house and save money for europe. this couldn't have come at a worse time. and for the stupidest crime. I'm sorry that me and my boyfriend are in love and he has a bed in the back seat. sorry that we had great sex and that the stupid fat po po can't get laid.
Since when is love a crime? obviously it is in a park at night, but i don't think it's worth 100$. we didn't hurt anyone, we weren't vandalizing or selling illicit substances. we were two teenagers in love at midnight in a deserted parking lot.
Goddamn coppers thinking they're better than us.
gah. rant over.


flying away.

The sky was beautiful today. columns of cloud spinning and bending slowly, sun streaming, rain falling, stretching out for further than the eye could see. When i look up i forget myself. losing myself in the sheer vastness, so much space enfolds me, surrounds me. and i am smaller than a speck on this great earth that expands from where i stand for miles and miles and miles and miles. It's a beautiful feeling. that so much exists around us that we can't possibly be that important, and my actions will have no great reactions. my problems send no lasting waves to distant shores, only ripples that fade before spreading too far. we often get caught up in human activity, entrenched in our lives, our duties, our dues, that we take ourselves too seriously. sure it's good to be a functioning role in society, but there's so much more to life. and so much less. life is simple in the wild. you live each day to survive, and humans have taken life for granted because of it's accesability. we have medicine at the ready, we have houses to protect us from the elements, we have fresh water always at hand, food in our fridges. and with these basic needs met we can focus on creating bogus rules and plans to fulfill our lives, getting that high corporate job, buying a big house and living 'the life'. but for me the life is just pure living as close to every other creature that shares the planet with us. life is not separating ourselves from nature, but embracing it. loving the tumultuousness of the seasons, learning about ecosystems and the multilateral cohabitation so that we can live the best we can in balance with all other life; sharing this planet and not hogging the resources. we are not the greatest beings of this earth. every living thing is as equally evolved as us, for they have made it to this present age. everything has its own way of staying alive, and we are not ones to judge what we do not fully understand, but to love it for what it is.


you're living a lie. threading falsehoods into a spindled web, catching your little prey, wrapping them up with your words. you spin us around, convincing us you're the bigger man. when you are nothing but a child trapped in a man's body, young and temperamental. you talk a pretty good game from the stage, but you've just built a castle with your pen, enclosing yourself in a fortress of love poems, happy poems of your conquest and your skill. but at the tallest tower is a boy sitting in a throne too big, wearing an over-sized crown.
You've been bested, and you're wounded, but unlike an injured animal stalking away to preserve your dignity, you wont have it. You lash out with your pride guiding you, aiming to hurt she who has overthrown you. And what a shame. you act in bursts, letting your emotions control you. your ego is engorged and you fight blindly, seeking to make right but all you're doing is digging yourself a grave, until we're all looking down upon you in your pit, and wishing you'd stay down there.


our year and a half :")

I just had the greatest day ever with my lover scott. we went to supertramp high on mushrooms and though it was a rough start (i felt like puking) it got great once they came on stage. the music was so great, and the crowd was trippy, and just being there with scott, all bubbly and smiley in his shrooms high, it was just such great energy all around. then after the freaking amazing set and encore we shuffled out and we were still a high and the night air was so refreshing and just the perfect temperature for a walk, we took the long way home, walking the scenic route back to the car, then rolled a doob whilst reminiscing about how great the music all was. then we went to the ramsay view over downtown and smoked it and had a mind blowing discussion about pretty much everything. i realized in that moment that i could never forgive myself if i settled down in a city. Calgary will not be my home for very much longer, i hope. I need a place with nature, that's for sure! But after the crazy talk, which probably lasted a good 45 minutes, we drove to sandy beach and proceed to have some alone time ;)
but it was just so beautiful
I felt like i had found my second half, and the pure bliss at having him back again, was like filling a hole i never really knew i had. it was an extremely emotional and pure lovely mboment. i felt completely sure that this was the man i would spend my life with, if he left my life it would be a catastrophe. and thanks to the mushrooms i started to cry because of the overwhelming emotion. i went to apologize for my tears, but he told me not to worry, he understood. and it hit me, and i said 'right, i dont need to apologize for this.' and it was a beautiful moment of pure acceptance, feeling safe and free to be our complete selves. we were holding each other and it was hard to tell who's appendages were who because we were one complete being. and when i closed my eyes i could see weird alex grey-esque images about being perfectly connected on so many levels. It was beyond amazing.
Man, i hope we can keep topping our anniversaries and make them as memorable as ever.
Scott if you're reading this, I love you so very much :) <3


Goodbye Groove

I feel that familiar tug of emptiness inside once again.
I can feel it spreading, pulsating through me.
It sits in my ribcage, chewing at my heart.
It corrupts my blood and sends it surging through tired arteries.

The Groove Shack is now empty and mangled. Filled with the debris of crashed-through ceilings and bashed down walls, broken glass from smashed windows. Most of them self inflicted wounds from those who knew the house best, who felt the need to have a part in its destruction before it was out of their hands. The house was scheduled for demolition, to make way for a more profitable abode. Knowing this, the house spiraled into disrepair, wounded by raucous parties and no motivation to clean up the next day damage. The walls were covered in crude but enjoyable drawings and spray paint tags, souvenirs of everyone who'd visited and left their mark. The last few weeks I noted how each room's old charm disintegrated slowly, each gaining unpleasant qualities. Garbage was scattered around; the sink was always full of dirty dishes; the hard wood floors were sticky and the carpeted floors were dank from spilled drinks. Near the end it was hardly liveable.
But before the Shack had descended into filth it was my favorite place to be. It was a place to waste the afternoon playing video games, smoking weed, drinking beer. It was a place to hang out with the crazy roommates and friends, and laugh at their never ending antics. It was a place for romantic homemade meals with my boyfriend. It was a place to get wasted and dance at their epic parties and a place to fall asleep in a warm bed at the end of it all. It was a place to listen to KGB practices or Taylor's solo work. It was just a great place. It stood for everything I loved; freedom, comfort, convenience, amusement and privacy when we needed it.
And now it's gone.

It's left a gaping void in me, because gone with it is my boyfriends home. He's back at his mom's, an acreage 25 kilometers out of the city. Gone are the days of going for a bike ride and ending up at his house twenty minutes later, gone are the days of a 5 minute drive home. Now seeing him means the distance eats an hour out of our time together, and with him working 5 days a week, that time is already so sparse. I suppose I took his closeness for granted. I took the whole house for granted, and now I'm feeling down. I knew the day would come when they'd have to pack up and leave, but I wasn't prepared for it. But I'll have to get used to it that's for sure.


Ive had this reoccurring dream that I'm in a dirty public bathroom and it's crowded with both genders and its huge and the stalls don't fit properly and I have no privacy and I really have to pee. I just though it was about my fear of public bathrooms, but apparently not:

To dream that you are in a public restroom with no stalls or that there are a lot of people around while you are trying to do your business, signifies your frustrations about getting enough privacy. You are always putting others ahead of your own needs. As a result, you are lacking a sense of personal space. Alternatively, the dream indicates that you are having difficulties letting go of old emotions. You are afraid that if you reveal these feelings, then others around you will judge and criticize you. If you dream that you are in a bathroom meant for the opposite sex, then it suggests that you are overstepping your boundaries.You have crossed the line in some situation.


take away this pain of knowing, fill this emptiness with light now

I left the room without saying goodnight. i mumbled something incoherent and unimportant and turned away and left. I felt bad, sort of. As if saying good night was something so hard to do that I'd rather just walk away. But the thought of any personal connection was uncomfortable. It made no sense, but somehow it just ended up that way.
There had been a time of crisis, of trauma, that left our communication breathless. And starved of oxygen, cell by cell, it began to die.
But as the heart restarted and air once again passes through us, we have escaped death.
But with the price of dead nerves, never letting us grow closer. scarred tissue stopped us from speaking as we once had. The confidations of a young daughter to her mother were lost forever, replaced with the wounded distance of an estranged teen.


i love the wrinkles you leave on the bed sheet in the morning.


brain damage

there's someone in my head, but it's not me.

and it kinda feels good.

I've had a sort of realization. That beautiful places exist, with beautiful people. And I can have my mind blown in the most amazing way. I have now tried every drug I wanted to, now it's just time to refine my highs and lows. and only the best environments will do. Windswept cliffs with wave-cut caves in which we blast pink Floyd into the natural surround sound of sedimentary sand and ocean pebbles. Forgetting time, only told by the rising of the swirling tides and the setting of the western sun in a bed of water. where nothing mattered but the basics. that we had food in our stomachs and shelter from the wind, because our hearts were full of the freedom of nature, bursting like balloons, floating through the forest trails. swiftly we ran through knotted ground, down rivers that streamed through the trees, upon trees upon trees. red dirt made from wood upon wood. cool green shadows shiver through trunks, slither over roots. ancient forests dance to the rhythm of the wind. I ran my fingers over melting bark, moss carpeted and smooth. i planted myself in crystal sands and turned my leaves toward the sun and grew to the beat of the waves dragging their fingers across the beach. i carved faces into the ground smiling up at me with gaping eyes.
I did alot more. But mostly I had the time of my life.


self pity rant, dont mind it.

ive concluded that my body hates me. after realizing I'm newly lactose intolerant and cant eat the slightest bit of dairy without my intestines wringing themselves into knots and keeping me up all night, i find out i have a UTI. it took a week to get the medication for it, and after i take it, it fucks up my kidneys, a rare side effect. Not wanting to feel the pain of a sore back and tender internal organs again, i hesitate to take the second dose. But my parents demanded that I do, so here I am again, unable to stand without feeling pain all through my back. and on top of all of it, i'm getting sick, because the antibiotics are destroying my immune system. wooooo.


Less than a week of school left. Motivation is dwindling in the face of a program change, and the irrelevance of all my current credentials. Though i should keep up my gpa, maybe get a scholarship. I could do with the Jason lang. But I feel good lately. Though it’s unfortunate I’ve wasted two years and over five thousand dollars, I feel unchained with the revelation that I have the freedom to do whatever I want. I need school to be interesting, tailored to what I really want to learn. And I plan to find that perfect degree that will teach me everything I want to know. Environmental science is looking great right now, because it’s only a 3 year degree and I get to work and get paid the last two semesters, getting my foot into the door of the earth’s job sector. I just hope I can work for something great. Something where I’m outdoors and I can surround myself with the simple beauty of nature while getting paid to protect it.

You know what would be great? If I could become the next David Suzuki. I’ve been brought up on the knowledge of the natural world around me, taught to love it and cherish it. I could channel my passion into my profession, teaching the world to love as I love, to appreciate as I appreciate, this truly astounding planet of ours. To educate the masses of the simple truths, that we are all one and humans are no different, we are animals that need to re-immerse ourselves into our environment.

When I think of the poor souls who chose to work in an office downtown, it makes me sad. How people will sacrifice their sanity, their time and their happiness to slaving over a computer in fluorescent lighting so that they can make the most money possible and live out a ‘lavish’ life. I will never work an office job in my life. I would rather make minimum wage and work every day in the forests of British Columbia than make ten times that and subject myself to the hollow existence of the profiteer. And this understanding has blessed me with the assurance of a life well lived, distancing myself from the damaging mind frame that is capitalism; the religion of the mighty dollar, where money is king. We’ve put all our faith in the omnipresent economy, a fictional fabrication of man. But I have wisdom. I’ve been told by many I have the talent of seeing the bigger picture. Seeing past the obstacles that clog our everyday lives into the vastness of the world in which we live in and our place in it. I can’t get distracted by fame, seduced by profit.

I am in love with the earth and I am a faithful woman.


juss one o' those moods.

rant: commencing.
oh how i wish you could read minds. so i dont have to bother you with my problems, you could just know they existed and be the knight in shining armor. but i don't want to bring you down to my level. dont want to tell you what's bothering me because i feel like i'm just complaining, and im afraid it bores you. that's my biggest fear. is that my problems are so frequent they become a burden instead of an opportunity to heal. i just really need you. i remember when we first started dating i told you i never wanted to need you, but i need to be wanted. i need you to want to help. and i know you do. but there's always that fear. that unloading myself upon you will bury you and you'll be helpless, pinned like a butterfly and having to watch as i struggle on my own, because sometimes you're clueless. but that's fine. you try to and you've been getting better, but i am a complex woman. a fragile woman who is built out of sand and comes crashing down at the slightest wave. i am needy. i'm sensitive. i cry about fucking everything. and knowing that it makes you nervous makes me not want to cry, but that makes me feel bad for crying which makes me cry harder. oh woe is me, aint it? i make big deals out of everything. i know i do and i know you think i'm overreacting sometimes, and i am, but it kinda hurts to know you think so i guess. i dunno, it's hard.
I've always been that good girl. the one that no one can ever be mad at. and no one really has. i've successfully evaded many types of conflict, but all it's done is made me weak. i havent built up a tough outer shell as a defense mechanism. I'm naked and squirming and able to be wounded by the slightest scrape. i guess i need to work on that. but it's a huge process, and sometimes i just need someone to let it all out to. I've lost my best friend to long distance and you're the only one i talk to with the slightest amount of candor. so sometimes i just need you to hold me and let me cry, let me complain, let me be a big baby, because that's how i cope. after a good cry i feel great. light and clean, like a new clothes, waiting to be dirtied again. it's not a great cycle i've got going, but it's me. and if im gonna have the courage to start changing, i need you to be there every step of the way unconditionally. and i know you will be. but part of me, the vile weak and scared part, is so horribly afraid you wont.
i dont know why i wrote this. just one of those moods where it's been a horrid day and all i want to do is talk to you, but the only talking between us is you calling to say the plans have changed. i guess that was the icing on the cake, and having so much to say and no one to say it to, i just let it out all here. i wasn't planning on showing this to you, but after the counseling i figured it would be good to share as much of what's going on in my head with you. hope it doesn't scare you. sometimes i just need to write it all out and have done with it.
i love you.
and i learnt something else after writing this. you wont always be there to help me when im sad, and i need to be able to help myself. i don't need to always unload on you. i am strong, when i want to be, and i need to be self reliant. having you beside me or on the other end of the line when i'm feeling down is amazing, but that's not always going to happen. and it feels good to be able to work through my sorrow and foul moods on my own, because i don't have to bury someone beneath all my rubble in order to relieve myself of my loads.