Thursday, December 23, 2010

Brain Droppings for the Reindeers

Hi folks,

It's Christmas Eve eve and my Grandma is visiting but wrapping gifts so I can't come down, so I might as well write on here a bit.  I've been looking through my old notebooks (a habit I enjoy immensely) and I've decided to post a bunch of crap.  Enjoy...

I Heard That... (May 14, 2008):
Some things last longer than others
In conclusion, always remember..
An eclectic mix of documentaries
no one fit the description
engages in matters
walk out the door with government property
Missionary work
I could work on math, but...
saying your name over and over
Is this your water?
Saturday night
I don't always either
Thank you
Buh Bye
they're working on setting it up
fall schedule cuts back
This is just an incredible honour for someone like me
I smell vomit
You know
This afternoon
bright bright
it's not even a good story
fail this class
this year and
something good
harassing me
unnecessary violence
he opened the glass door
the pile is growing

**This poem or song was based on random phrases I overheard during the course of a day.  So technically I didn't write it.

Candy (May 14, 2008):

Now we're talking.  I craved candy.  A nice, classy dainty neat treat.  Every day after school at Hillcrest I would go to the convenience store at the plaza nearby (right next to the dentist's office) and buy a paper bag full of candy.  Other than the amount you could get for just 75 cents what I liked most of all was the variety.  Swedish berries, Big feet, cinnamon lips, licorice fizzlers, candy cigars, Swedish fish, Popeye sticks, Double mints, fuzzy peaches, sour cherries, and Tootsie Rolls.  Every day I would try something new.  It was like an unhealthy food fair.  But my favourite and unfortunately the most expensive was Candied Cigarettes.  Chicago, New York, London, Paris.  I loved the role-playing.  Right down to the price tag, it was cigarettes without the nicotine.  I remembered the disapproving looks as I was driven home pretending to smoke the lovely Popeye sticks and chocolate rolled in paper.  I snickered every time.

Catharsis (May 24-25, 2008):

Catharsis: The audience's reaction after a tragedy (a play that has a sad ending).  The audience learn what they should not do and generally feel better about themselves (at least it didn't happen to me...)

Reaction after a happy, fun romantic comedy?
You remember the funny parts, re-sing the catchiest songs, congratulate the actors on a job well done (if you know them), go home, sleep tight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
I always have the same reaction.
But it's nothing like bliss or catharsis.
Those are my alibies.  I pretend.
It's always just been... inadequacy.
I definitely hate it, but what I wouldn't give to be up there with them, star of the show...
I'd make it real, fun, intelligent, even historically accurate.
Because who really likes "the way of the broads?"
They push their voices until they're as nasal as anteaters.
It's always been more about the acting for them, anyway.
But I could act!
I'd probably even have fun!
They make it seem so easy, like they live in a perfect world.
Anyone of their mistakes, I spot and then I cash in.
I could do SO much better!
I know I could do so much better...
drama class
I tried so hard, but it's no fun
acting when you know everyone
wants, wants, wants
what you don't:
"That's not how you do it! A doctor has to know exactly what to do!"
"Scream!  People have to hear you!"
"That's a dumb idea!"
"Come up with something!"

I give up.  A play is a play is a musical is a musical.
A play is a musical, not a concert.
And when I stand there on the stage, I either don't know who I am or I am afraid to show who I am.
That's me.
The one in the shadows.
They all know me.
But it's not me they're looking at.
I'm not the one putting on a show.
I just want to be rescued.
I want to be loved, even noticed, for being the calm, cool, collected fan that deserves a chance.
After the play, I just realize.
Wait a minute, I'm just me...
Just myself.
Just a girl.
Never a girlfriend.
Never a diva.
Never a star.
Never a temptress.
Never loved by the crowd.
I don't have a public.  I have a family.  That's it!
But maybe that's how it should be.

Spain: A Rhyming Excercise (May 2008):

Hurt him.
Who wears the pants?
Who wears the pants?
Disco Dance
Disco Dance


** One of my sillier pieces.  It could be a song, I guess.

The Green and White Snake (July 8, 2008):

Words were never spoken or exchanged.
"The GO Train is here."
The only five words anyone there ever thought they needed to hear
they weren't words
they were mentality
the briefcases
click-a-clacks of heels
rustling of zippers and keys
scrapings of sandals
rollings of bags
sharp noses
blank eyes
all pointed at their exact target
click clack
click clack
a steady stream
of everyone and anyone
men with full black business suits
girls in Gouci and jeans
ladies in Reitmans
men in checkered shirts and khaki shorts
like ants they piled into the
green and white
dreading the fatal announcement
"last call!  Last call!"
they accelerated
full grown men and women
whipping and thudding and click-a-clacking
the wind pushed them back to their cars
the ground screamed "Stop!"
but they didn't listen
a woman
all in blue
who could raise the dead
with her clacking
daintily ran as fast as she could
"DOORS SHUT!" the conductor's voice was muffled
and he followed through
in a spurt of perseverance
the doors closed
At least the adults knew one thing
no amount of noise could open them
so they didn't try
the blue-clad woman slowed to a stop
the GO train had gone
she slumped in the middle of the station
the wind urged her
but suddenly
the train came again
always there
always gone
the heels revived
click clack

You're not a friend (July 2008):

You're not a friend
who was certain I'd never be there
I didn't have a friend
to cry on my shoulder
I had a monotone, crackling wall for company
I was plastered to the wall
I believed it as eternity

I planned my escape:
How can I pull away?
but you, the wall, stood fast
You rejected my blood and tears
as I tried to saw my hand off to escape

You hated me
And as I shook your plaster off,
pulling away from you,
I found a tar fence
barbed wire
sticky teeth

You hated me
How I knew a few things that you didn't
But how you clung to me!
So tight that it became your revenge

You froze and became a block of ice
You hated me so much that you would release me
with a quick slide and slip I was free
but it was the most cold, painful freedom I had ever felt
I couldn't even return your rope
without slipping and falling

Now I can see through you
I can see the other rooms
I can see the people, the places, the world

With you I was bound and blind

But tonight I'll pass you by
And maybe, if I'm dreadfully unlucky, I will taste that frozen tar
and vomit

Each gesture was an insult


Okay, that's enough for today.  I'll probably feed the reindeers again tomorrow if I get the time.  Lots of material to use.  I'm thinking I might change the layout.  At this point I think the current layout makes my writing kind of hard to read.  And I want something a little more interesting.  I'm pretty excited for Christmas!
But it will be pretty different without mom.  It already is though.  It's a seasonal pain, not a pain that only happens on Christmas day.

Another thing that is bothering me is that my grandparents on my dad's side of the family have bought an obscene amount of presents for us.  They do have a lot of money, but it makes me feel guilty and bad for them.  I wish they didn't feel like they have to splurge on us every Christmas.  But it's always the same every Christmas.  They buy us a bunch of things that we don't even need most of the time, just to demonstrate how much they care.  But that's not how you show that you care.  Rich motherfuckers do the same thing when they beat or rape their wives to try to minimize their guilt, only they buy them expensive jewelry, clothes, cars even year-round.  Meanwhile, grandma constantly criticizes us because our house isn't completely spotless, because my brothers have hair that is longer than average ("they look like bums off the street!"), because we've stopped going to church due to atheist/agnosticism/buddhism (mom is dead so she can no longer force us to go every sunday), because we have left-wing views, because we don't throw away enough of our stuff, because I'm too introverted, because my brother does pot, because my brothers' grades aren't very good.  She focuses on the negatives.  She's even insulted our now-dead mother on several occasions, saying she didn't know how to discipline us properly and other unpleasant things.  Often, when she's over, she insists on cleaning most of the house because we aren't doing it right.  I actually prefer my mom's side of the family.  Grandma and grandpa on that side were poor and still are pretty poor, so grandma would give us bargain books or books from her formidable stash in the house that we could take a turn reading.  Grandma loved reading and shared her love of books with everyone.  Every Christmas I knew I'd get books from her, but I loved her presents.  They were thoughtful and small.  Grandma died around the same time as mom, and I will miss her so much.  She was an intelligent, chatty, open-minded woman.  A notorious pack rat, bookworm and feminist.  Probably one of my favourite people over 60.  These days my mom's side of the family doesn't even exchange gifts.  How do we fill that oh-so-noticeable void?  It doesn't even need to be filled.  Just gives us more time to chat with in-laws, listen to and play music and eat scrumptious food.  As soon as it's over I can't wait for the one next year.  Christmas with dad's side of the family is also nice.  I love to see my uncles and aunts and cousins and grandparents on that side, especially in a situation where they have to be nice and behave, but they really don't need to give us that many gifts.  I'd be ecstatic with only one gift from them.  Anyway, I should go to bed now. 

Stay tuned for two interesting make-believe professor encounters...

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Ugly choir girl

Okay, I lied.  One more.

Ugly choir girl:

She always sits in front of me
Face full of zits
Frizzy tight curls
Tacky clothes
Thin as a pencil
You're so greasy
You're pizza
You're macaroni and cheese

Why are all the girls in this choir so hideous?
I get sick to my stomach
when I look at you
you are the smell of sickening sweet
an arts major
fishing for notes
following the leader

And worst of all
you're blocking my view of him
You negate the bliss I feel when I see his face
He's looking at me now
But you can't let him see me
I think he loves me
But you're blocking his view

Who else would he want in this section?
And then I glance behind me

Big busty girl
Blond greasy hair
Eighties chic
Blue eyes
Brown coat
Big tits
Red pouting lips
She's not ugly
But by logic she should be

And I realize I'm a fool
It's her
He can't stop looking at her

I'm getting annoyed
He can't control his head
Always turned to my corner of the room
What does she think of this?

But she's gone
I won't see her until tomorrow
Was he looking at someone else?
At me?
I ponder the mystery
Leaving choir and the pizza-faced girl
with a smirk on my face

Maybe I'm not an ugly choir girl

The Walrus and the Narwhal

One last poem for today.  Note: I want to make most of my poems into songs, so some of them have choruses and verses and such.

The Walrus and the Narwhal:

The results are in
I couldn't resist
I had to find my future
So I opened the box
and had a little fun
All I ever wanted
was the narwhal and the walrus

I dusted it off
the plastic green box
from my days of innocence
full of tiny noble animals
from every kingdom
So precious to me
I couldn't ever give it away

I dusted them off
and put them in couples
everything in pairs
everyone in pairs
Just like our world
And I wanted the walrus
but what choice did I have?
So I added some consolation prizes...

I'm bound to get one of them
The Walrus who slouches
The Ant who never listens
The Turtle who talks to himself
The Whale with the deformity
The Praying Mantis (too religious!)
The T-Rex with the family situation
Or at least the Shark who seems a little gay
I entered with seven ballots

So I paired the world off
the animal kingdom
inter species was the point
but it couldn't work
I got the seal
Probably beautiful
but not who I want
Dissapointment ruled me
And I had to know what happened
Maybe I just wanted power?
Well they all found other species
Probably forgot about me
even the Walrus
he got an old Elephant

The feeling was dangerous
but all I ever wanted
was the Walrus and the Narwhal

Hospital Whisper

Hospital Whisper

Your voice was so cold
when I told you
Different, inhuman
I never experienced that
I guess I thought telling you
would change you
into a superhero
who would save the damsel in distress
The girl who lost her mother

Pitch black
But my eyes had adapted
I knew from the start
you were a douche
But I've become blind lately
It was just like
Just like you were
Talking to a patient in a hospital
at night
As if you were about to rape her
Maybe you're a vulture

But I don't think you feed on that meat
It was just so fake
And I regretted it
Thinking I could trust you
You don't care
I guess
Why would you?

I want to know
how you work
How you've become this
but it's too late
I leave tomorrow at eleven
No time
No time to even give you a chance

And we both say "you" so much
Me because I loved you
You because you wanted to lead me on

I guess that's all it ever was
just trying to catch a fish
And every time you asked me about school
it was just to know your fucking deadline

I still hope it isn't true
I pray for flowers or nice words
But I know deep down
nothing will happen tomorrow
Time will tell
Just prove it to me

Maybe I have to cry
I was really hoping not
But the way things are going
it probably won't take much

I loved you
It seemed you were the only one
who noticed my glasses or my hair
No boy ever could before
Now I know why your act was so important
Or do I?
What's in it for you?
I'll never know

And I still hope it isn't true
I wish for flowers or nice words from you
But I can tell you're bored stiff
You know all the tricks
and you just want the loot
you'd rather stare at my flat chest
And daydream until I'm trhough

Mom would never approve of you

Spring Cabana

I decided to make a different post for whenever I post poetry.  This is probably the one I'm most proud of of the poetry I'm posting today...

Spring Cabana:

Like a holiday in a person
The ultimate diplomat
Gilded with tweed
Won the Euclid and the Fermat
Child prodigy
And a perfect gentleman
A perfect gentleman

You were Atlantis
when I first met you
I was so terrified
that I couldn't impress you
You were so perfect
So beautiful
You smelled like flowers

Had to know what the smell was
What flower?
Where are you from?
What are you?  Who are you?
A breath of fresh air?
An angel, a fairy?
A devil, a liar?

You packed up your Viper's tongue
Your lyre
Your childish analogies
It seems you have a taste for
skinny pale intellectuals
with unusual but not improbable hair colours
And now you're in Florence

Did I scare you away?

Today and Missing Mom

It's snowing again!  I love it when it snows.  When I went outside to pick up my history paper, there were millions of snowflakes floating through the air.  But the cold was nearly burning my face off.  The pros and cons of winter.

I got a B- on my paper.  I wanted an A of course, but a decent mark is fine.  I'm very relieved!    I finished writing that paper literally five minutes before the due date.  I was really last minute. 

I woke up at 2 pm today.  I'm very ashamed.  I went to bed at 3 am, but it's still pretty deplorable, not to mention a record-breaker.

I need to study for my history final, so I don't want to waste too much time.  I want to ace it!
I went shopping at the mall by myself yesterday.  Very enjoyable, albeit crowded.  And I was thinking about how much I missed shopping with mom.  How I usually loved spending that time with her.  But I was a kid then.  But then I realized... I'm an adult.  I dress myself, I can drive, take the bus, the train all on my own, I make my own food, I have jobs and have had jobs, most of the money in my bank account was earned, I see my family less often (sometimes only twice a month) because I'm getting less and less dependent on them, no one wakes me up in the morning, I can legally drink, and I do (I've acquired a taste for white wine and cheap beer), I have my own room in an apartment, no one tells me to do chores, do my homework, clean my room, I buy my own groceries and shop on my own.  In a few years I might be completely independent, with a boyfriend or husband, a job in music, my own house.  I'm a woman, not a girl.  It feels weird to say that.  But I miss my mom.   I always wanted to watch the Nutcracker with her during the holidays.  Why didn't we do that?  I miss shopping with her, watching concerts, musicals, operas with her, riding the GO train with her, asking her for advice on outfits, makeup, hair.  Asking her what the high was (she always knew), her waking me up early, decorating the Christmas tree with her, baking and cooking together, practicing while she worked in the study, driving lessons (she either looked completely worried or not worried at all), watching chick flicks with her, camping trips as a family, seeing her pull into the driveway after a long day at work, speaking french with her.  So many memories.  But for some reason I especially miss our shopping trips at Erin Mills.  We'd leave and say we'd be gone for an hour, but we were gone for four hours.  Dad would call us and say, "Where ARE you?!" and mom would tell him that we were almost done or on our way home.  She was a shopaholic.  I miss her.