tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5909027876636416772011-05-24T21:56:40.154-07:00I know it sounds absurd, Please Tell Me Who I Am!Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-46436047054658008232011-05-24T21:30:00.000-07:002011-05-24T21:56:40.167-07:002011-05-24T21:56:40.167-07:00Princess Bride Remake!Hello people!<br />
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I'm sorry about not posting these last few months. I can't say I've been that busy. I did have exams and my jury and applying for jobs, but really most of the time I've been sleeping, eating and watching TV. I guess I'm just getting bored of blogging for a non-existent audience. No one comments! But I have been writing quite a bit for FanFiction.net because the people on there seem to be reading and giving me feedback. Also, it's fun to take a work of fiction and make it your own.<br />
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Mostly what's happening with me right now is that I am still looking for a summer job. I do have the art gallery but that is only every Saturday morning. Luckily, today was a great day because not only am I eligible for a big tax refund, but I have an interview for Loblaws in a couple days! I really hope I get the job, even if it means I have be a cashier. <br />
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My main topic for this evening is the Princess Bride. <br />
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I just revisited one of my preteen movie obsessions for fun and as I was watching it I thought of remake cast members one by one. Almost every character reminded me of a modern actor in some way. If you've seen this movie, you probably remember it as an awesome, low-budget, underrated 80s fairytale adventure movie with a great cast.<br />
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Since it was made in 1987 they could do a 25th anniversary remake (2012) or a 30th anniversary remake (2017).<br />
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I know some people may disagree with me about this, but this movie could be made funnier than it was (although it was absolutely hilarious). I most definitely think the music could have been improved. No full out musical song-and-dance numbers, but definitely something a little less boring, like John Williams or Danny Elfman.<br />
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Be forewarned - this is not a practical cast, it is my dream cast!<br />
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Westley = Dustin Ingram (if he can do an excellent British accent)<br />
Buttercup = Keira Knightley<br />
Humperdinck = Jerry Seinfeld<br />
Inigo Montoya = Antonio Banderas<br />
Fezzik = Arnold Schwarzenegger in a fat suit<br />
Vizzini = Rick Mercer (if you haven't heard of him, you should seriously look up "Rick Mercer Report")<br />
Count Rugen = Alan Rickman<br />
Miracle Max = Christopher Walken<br />
Valerie = Julia Louis Dreyfus<br />
Albino = An overweight asian guy of some kind<br />
Sickly child (Grandson) = TBA<br />
Grandfather =John Mahoney<br />
Impressive clergyman = Rowan Atkinson or Patrick Kerr<br />
The Queen = Helen Mirren<br />
The Decrepit King = TBA<br />
The Ancient Booer = Susan Boyle<br />
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Comment if you like my choices, or if you disagree with them! Be honest! I love constructive criticism!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-4643604705465800823?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-78478344776740792642011-03-18T22:54:00.000-07:002011-03-18T22:54:47.970-07:002011-03-18T22:54:47.970-07:00Lonely DaySometimes it feels like no one is reading this except me. Being anonymous is harder because you can't promote your blog to people you know. And I don't have facebook, the main place for promoting non-anonymous blogs. And it doesn't seem like I'm posting stuff that is extreme or really personal yet, so why do I feel the need to be anonymous? I need to dig deeper. I still want to remain anonymous. If no one reads this, it's ok. It's just for fun. It's like an online diary that can only be read by strangers. An organization of my thoughts and work. It's still helpful and enjoyable to me. <br />
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Besides, I get my attention fix from writing fanfiction. They really seem to like my stories. Or maybe they just generally go crazy over everything on there. Nevertheless, I enjoy that site. I'm thinking if I ever have any good fiction that isn't fanfiction to post, I'll get an account on Writer's Cafe. It looks like an interesting site. The reviews go into more detail there.<br />
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Whenever I write on here I tend to not be able to stop. So many thoughts to express. I'll talk about my day. That's why I decided to blog tonight. To rant about my crappy day.<br />
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I woke up early (for me) at 9 am, thinking I had a lesson at 10 am, when my lesson was actually at 11 am, so that was probably one of the best parts of my day, because I got extra time to do stuff, like check my email and watch Nadia: the Secret of Blue Water, which I did. <br />
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I got to my lesson five minutes early, which was unusual for me. And when I got to my lesson my teacher was there. I half expected her to be just as late, because I am often late, so she shows up just as late to show her disdain for my bad time-management skills. She's passive-aggressive like that. I admit being late is rude, but it's just so hard for me to be on time for some reason. I've been bad at getting to things on time as long as I can remember. It's my main bad habit. That, and sleeping in. So I'm early and she's actually there to appreciate that, and this is putting me in a good mood. But she actually turns out to be kind of mad that I'm early. She says she has to quickly check her mail, otherwise she'll be in trouble. Tells me to warm up or relax. And then she comes back, 10 minutes later. So I show up five minutes early and our lesson ends up starting five minutes late. It's rather infuriating. But I'm too shy to speak up about these things, although they have happened before. I could write an entire entry on the unprofessional-ism of my singing teacher this year. Maybe I will. Anyway, I will give you one example of how she has wasted my lessons. This has happened twice during lessons with her and my accompanist-coach. They send me out into the hall so they can talk about secret things I don't need to know. The second time this happened I was waiting out in the hall for fifteen minutes! I think they're probably talking about a girl in our studio who recently dropped out of the music faculty. But it could be me. Or just randomly gossiping about other teachers and students. I don't really give a fuck. Unless it's an emergency, I think it can wait. I don't know why they don't arrange a coffee date outside of class. It's just so unbelievaly rude and unprofessional. I guess because I don't speak up they think it's okay to treat me like this. If I were them, I would feel bad about it. If or when I teach, I will treat my students with respect. My previous teacher was extremely professional. I think one lesson he left for a minute to refill a water bottle. That's it. I really miss that teacher. Previous teacher, if you know who I am somehow and you are reading this, come back!! I'm begging you! Yes, it's that bad. <br />
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Anyway, I have gone off on a tangent. Back to my bad day. After the initial suckyness, the lesson went fairly well. But I had another lesson an hour later (with my teacher and accompanist). I wasn't early but slightly late. The problem was that I had just learned the Bach piece I brought in a few days ago and it was barely ready to be worked. So I think I made a lot of unnecessary mistakes and they were losing their patience with me. I lost some of my previous confidence in myself for a while after that lesson. You have to work so hard to sound half decent in the classical world. I don't know if I will be able to bring that to the table for my vocal jury. I hope I can. I'll just have to keep trying. So that depressed me. My teacher also said something in the earlier lesson that resonated with me. She said that I need to really feel the emotion of the piece and bring it out and that I'm not yet confident in my body. That is definitely true, but it kind of hurt to hear it from her. Sometimes I take criticism too harshly. I'll just have to work harder.<br />
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So I went home and had lunch. I finished the Nadia series which was sad, but also a relief. And I wanted to go to a masterclass, but I didn't get ready to go soon enough, so I missed it. That depressed me.<br />
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I went to get my police check and got it back. That was easy.<br />
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Then I decided to practise and learn music. I learned Thank You For the Music by ABBA and a song from Kiki's Delivery Service (piano and voice), but they proved too challenging. I don't have the accompaniment quite right, which is frustrating. I went through the Bach piece again and with her diction suggestions it took so much effort that my abs hurt! Is this how it feels every time you sing with a supported sound? How can you enjoy it and endure it then? I don't know. Another thing she said stuck with me: "Most musicians and singers don't sing with their full voice." It makes me wonder if that's really what I want to be known for: a supported sound? I will need to think about this some more.<br />
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So as I continued practicing and learning music, the campus became quite empty, since it is a Friday, which always puts me in a bad mood. And I became quite tired. Coffee didn't help. Then I realized my cell phone was missing, but I thought I left it at home, so I didn't go home. <br />
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Speaking of home, I made cupcakes the day before and left some out for my roomies, but none of them had been eaten yet, when usually they were eaten quite quickly. This made me sad. I'm being over-sensitive, but it still made me sad. <br />
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One cool thing happened. As I walked by the cafeteria, I was really craving curly fries, but I didn't want to spend too much money since I was eating out for dinner. So I resisted and went to get my coffee and on the way some people were giving out free chocolate ice cream! So I had that instead. It seemed that they packed up right after that, too. So if I got the curly fries I would have missed it. It was a cool coincidence. <br />
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Eventually I went to an Indian restaurant for dinner, but the bus took me too far and I had to walk for a longer time, which sucked. <br />
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Then I went to the theatre to see a play called "An Experiment With an Air Pump." I was there early so I got to read my Margaret Atwood book, which was nice.<br />
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The play was really good, but I won't talk about that right now. I saw a classmate of mine there. We talked for a while during intermission, but she didn't seem to want to talk too long, probably because she was with her boyfriend. During the part where they are having a funeral for one of the characters, who has hung herself (sorry for the spoiler!) she and her boyfriend were laughing uncontrollably. Like, what the hell? And then, afterwards, they slipped away really quickly and left me to walk home alone. And I did not know the area of that university very well. On my way home, I must have encountered at least five groups of young guys out partying. The worst kind of group to bump into, according to my dad. Luckily, nothing bad happened. But I kept wishing I had friends or a boyfriend to come with me. But I don't have a boyfriend and I figured my roommates or classmates wouldn't be interested or they would have had other plans (in layman's terms I am too shy to ask them to come with me). <br />
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So I made it home to find out that my cell phone wasn't there. Later that night I found out that the music faculty secretary had found it, but I was really worried before hand. The third time I have lost something this week. I'm so forgetful and I don't know how to fix it.<br />
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Anyway, another lonely day, and it's mine. It's a day that I'm glad I survived. There were some good moments, but I think the bad moments outweighed them. It's not winning any awards, but it wasn't a great day. I generally hate Fridays. <br />
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I might tell you about Nadia: the Secret of Blue Water later. I'm too tired right now. I will tell you about the cupcakes, though. Everything turned out quite well except the tootsie roll hat rims. I don't know how one would have the patience to stretch several Tootsie Rolls until you can mold them. They are really firm. Other than that, the recipe was successful! It took so much time. I don't think I will do it again, unless I have a lot of time and money on my hands. The ingredients were expensive, in some cases. They are delicious, though! I wish my roommates liked them. To be fair, one of them had one tonight. So that's good. <br />
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Here's hoping tomorrow is better, For you and for me. For everyone.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-7847834477674079264?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-39102977338767102922011-03-14T20:21:00.000-07:002011-03-14T20:21:13.832-07:002011-03-14T20:21:13.832-07:00What's happening lately<b>Current musical phase: ABBA</b><br />
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I was obsessed with them in childhood, and since I burned them to my iPod yesterday, I haven't been able to play anything else. Every once in a while it sounds like indie or techno, because they use a lot of synthesizer. "SOS," "Gimme, gimme, gimme," "Voulez-vous," "Does your mother know" and "Thank you for the music" are masterpieces. <br />
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ABBA is also a musical form. Haha.<br />
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I thought I had caught the Owl City fever as well, and I listened to some of their songs, but I think it's just the song "Fireflies" that I like. The rest is not very remarkable. <br />
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<b>Current book: The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood</b><br />
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I haven't read that much yet, but so far it reminds me of 1984.<br />
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<b>Current anime: Nadia: the Secret of Blue Water</b><br />
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Such an awesome anime. I got into it because I heard my favourite Disney movie (Atlantis) was largely based on it (to the point of copying it). Watching it now, I have to agree. <br />
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Milo = Jean<br />
Kida = Nadia<br />
Helga = Electra<br />
Rourke = Gargoyle<br />
Mole = Hanson<br />
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Both casts of characters live on a submarine most of the time. Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water is longer, with more character development. Also, the villains in Nadia are the Neo-Atlanteans, while the heroes are the surviving Atlanteans and the descendants of the Atlanteans. <br />
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The series is very imaginative and you can learn a lot about science from it, like in Star Trek. It also kind of reminds me of Pokemon and Trigun. Pokemon, because the villainous trio is pretty much exactly like Team Rocket, although Pokemon came later, so Pokemon copied this series. <br />
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Grandis = Jessie<br />
Sanson = James<br />
Hanson = Meowth (only human, and much more intelligent)<br />
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They have almost the exact same voices and appearances, although Sanson has a very aristocratic British drawl while James has more of a gay British accent.<br />
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It's also similar to Trigun, because of the animation style and the constant theme of whether it is worth it to be pacifist. On the Nautilus, there are occasions when people have to die in order to defeat Gargoyle, and there is no other option. Like Vash, Nadia is a pacifist throughout the entire series, and it costs her sometimes. She is a lot more vocal about it, though. <br />
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Also, the villains (Neo-Atlanteans) are quite frightening for anime, which is refreshing. They wear KKK hoods that are black (kind of like the Death Eater hoods) and army uniforms that are like the Nazi, Soviet and American soldier uniforms and white frowning masks. These villains don't make speeches, fly around in silly machines and cackle evilly. They shoot people, make nuclear weapons and believe in a superior race. Yeah. Get your kids to watch this one, parents! I lost sleep watching the first few episodes with these villains. They are creepy. Those KKK hoods really scare me for some reason, and I'm not even black.<br />
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I've really enjoyed watching it so far. Sometimes, I'll watch 3 or 4 in a night. It is addicting. But I'm still only on episode 25 and there are 39 altogether, so I'm about 2/3 through the series. It doesn't seem to be very well known. I guess because it's from 1990 (older than Pokemon!). I highly recommend this series to people who like any of these shows/movies: Atlantis, Pokemon, Trigun and Star Trek. <br />
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In conclusion, it is a combination of Disney's "Atlantis," "Pokemon," "Trigun," and "Star Trek." But it is original in many aspects.<br />
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<b>What I will be baking soon: St. Patrick's Day cupcakes </b><br />
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I will tell you how it goes. They are green cupcakes with green sugar, white icing, green gummies made into shamrocks and Leprechaun hats made from green icing, Ritz crackers, marshmallows, M&Ms and Tootsie Rolls. Go to the website if you want to try making it as well. Warning: it was hard for a college student like me to find all the materials (my apartment is kind of understocked with obscure baking supplies and ingredients).<br />
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Here it is: http://hoosierhomemade.com/st-patricks-day-cupcakes-cupcake-tuesday/<br />
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Her version looks awesome. The woman on this website seems very creative. Wish me luck! Luck of the Irish, that is!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-3910297733876710292?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-25864291108353135062011-02-13T20:40:00.000-08:002011-02-13T20:40:11.087-08:002011-02-13T20:40:11.087-08:00Crowded singingFor the past few months I and another hundred or so students have been working on a piece by Monteverdi called "Vespro della Beata Vergine" (The Monteverdi Vespers). It is an hour-long piece for an enormous 8-part choir or two enormous 4-part choirs, soloists and a medium-sized chamber orchestra with thirteen movements. We had our concert tonight so it is finally finished and I am very happy that it is over and we don't have rehearsal for another week.<br />
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Why am I telling you this? For the last two months rehearsals have been very hard to bear because of overcrowding. It wasn't as bad as a factory farm or a Japanese subway station, but it is pretty close to it. Even during the concert, when we are expected to give our best performances, we were still squished together. It was almost like rehearsing in a crowded setting was a practice for the crowdedness of the performance. And instead of desks, we had to sit in black uncomfortable folding chairs so we could fit everyone in the classroom we rehearsed in. I got especially frustrated last week when I was rehearsing with this massive choir for two hours every day. It would be hard to find a bigger place to rehearse and perform without paying a lot of extra money, but I felt that this overcrowding negatively effected our <b>singing</b>. <br />
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In the last few rehearsals, which dominated my weekend (instead of, you know, having a social life or at least getting some homework done), our director and other students noticed some serious problems: bad tuning in almost every section, no facial expression, people not watching the conductor, people texting in rehearsal, tentative rhythm, people still not getting some of their pitches. I think some of this might have been improved if people weren't packed in like sardines at the front of the church.<br />
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When we were performing, all dressed up, ready to go, if I moved my arm slightly, it would touch the person next to me, and I'd end up touching them if I leaned back. I actually felt my back hurting a few minutes into the piece. I also could barely see the conductor and since I was between two people, I couldn't move to be able to see him better. By the end I was exhausted. If you've ever been in a choir, you know how annoying all of this is.<br />
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In conclusion, I wish I had more room in choir because then I would probably sing better and not be as bored and cranky and tired.<br />
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Now I'm going to go and write some darned good fanfiction gosh darn it!<br />
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P.S. Damn it, Janet!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-2586429110835313506?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-61166223178682775222011-02-10T20:07:00.000-08:002011-02-10T20:07:21.953-08:002011-02-10T20:07:21.953-08:00Posting for the hell of itHello there.<br />
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Not too much news. Nothing too interesting. But I wrote half a song today. I wish I could show you but I currently can't. This is new for me, because I usually just write song lyrics and never set them to music because I'm too afraid to. But today, after playing some Sarah Harmer for fun, as usual, I wrote a sort-of song. Well, it's not done yet, but I did a good chunk of it. But I didn't write the words. Perhaps that's what was holding me back. I needed something that I didn't create in the song. So I spontaneously pulled out a monologue I did for my Acting for Singers class and set it to music. And I actually like what I've written. Maybe I'll continue or finish writing the song tomorrow. The first few lines of the monologue (by David Lindsey-Abaire) go like this:<br />
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"And what's interesting about George Washington, and most people don't know this about him, he wasn't just the father of our country, he was also the father of the first septuplets born in the United States. Martha gave birth the seven children on October 5th, 1762. Five of the children were very badly behaved, so they were sold into white slavery, while the two remaining, Maxwell and Hortense, drowned tragically in the Potomac while trying to retrieve their father's wooden teeth, which had fallen out of his mouth while he was beating a seagull with a canoe paddle."<br />
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The monologue is really funny. I'm thinking I might put the whole thing to music, so it will be longer than a conventional song, but I don't really give a fuck. Generally the better songs are like that anyway. Ok, not always, but often. I also wonder if I have to get some kind of permission to use David Lindsay-Abaire's text in a song if it gets performed or something. It probably won't, so at this point I won't worry about it.<br />
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I also keep getting cool fanfiction ideas for my current stories. I'm going to post another story on my fanfiction.net soon. It will be another Atlantis story, about an old coworker of Milo's named Beatrice, a university student in love with Milo, who tries to find Atlantis in Milo's honour, believing him to be dead. I'm really excited about this story, which was actually inspired by the Imogen Heap song "The Moment I Said it." A lot of my stories and fantasies are inspired by specific songs. Music just says so much. A picture is worth a thousand words, while a piece of music is worth a million words. <br />
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What is frustrating about having crazy amounts of creativity is that I don't get my practicing and homework done. But what am I supposed to do? Just ignore my ideas and let them itch at me while I focus on things that aren't as exciting? It's hard. Creating is so addicting.<br />
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Also, me and my roomies had a cleaning party tonight. This has happened more than once. Yes, university students doing chores and not having a completely crappy time. It wasn't really a party, but one of my roommates put on some Motown 60s music and soon all five of us were asking to help out. I Windexed my mirror and a bathroom mirror, cleaned a bathroom sink and vacuumed my room. Not really that much, but the other stuff got taken! It was kind of fun, but I'd rather watch a movie, to tell you the truth. <br />
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Alright. That's more than I thought I would write. I always have more to say than I think on here. Goodnight, fellow bloggers and readers!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-6116622317868277522?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-72560782468757910712011-01-26T18:45:00.000-08:002011-01-26T18:46:53.890-08:002011-01-26T18:46:53.890-08:00Divorced MenA poem I wrote last night.<br />
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Divorced Men:<br />
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I miss you<br />
You always smelled like flowers<br />
Like a woman<br />
I wanted that scent<br />
so I could breathe it in every day and feel you<br />
picture you<br />
put in on and become you<br />
I still want to become you<br />
You're perfect<br />
Your dirty blond hair<br />
Your moon-shaped glasses<br />
Your shoulder bag<br />
Your salads<br />
Your smile<br />
Your quick wit <br />
Those rebellious ears that stick out<br />
Just like you do<br />
In a crowd<br />
The freckles and tiny hairs on your arms<br />
Your slim fingers<br />
So perfect<br />
So immaculate<br />
So precise<br />
Your forest green cardigans and white dress shirts<br />
Your tweed jacket and pants<br />
Your ancient blackberry<br />
Your voice<br />
Smooth as milk and honey<br />
Your exercises<br />
Your books<br />
Your mind<br />
Your ring<br />
Which you no longer wear<br />
What do divorced men do with their rings?<br />
Do they make love to them?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-7256078246875791071?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-50367073441124629562011-01-24T11:29:00.000-08:002011-01-24T11:29:09.766-08:002011-01-24T11:29:09.766-08:00Culinary criticism... and praiseI went to Williams for breakfast at 11 am today and ordered a Strawberry Caramel Waffle. I knew I would enjoy it, but I didn't expect it to be heaven on a plate!<br />
<br />
It was perfect. I don't think I could offer any criticism except more strawberries.<br />
<br />
The ingredients? Freshly made waffle, strawberry syrup, strawberries, caramel, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, whipping cream and icing sugar.<br />
<br />
In a word: amazing. Five stars!<br />
<br />
Probably not at all healthy, but it was fucking delicious and it made my day!<br />
<br />
And I wasn't too bloated when I was finished either, but that might have been because of how much my stomach stretched last night...<br />
<br />
Last night I went to an Indian restaurant in Brampton called "Tandoori Flame." It was an all-you-can-eat buffet with 150 items! Basically Mandarin only with Indian food. And since Indian food is pretty much my favourite type of cuisine, I was in paradise!<br />
<br />
They had all my favourites, like chana masala, basmati rice, gulab jamun, garlic naan, cute mini samosas, etc, but they also had unique things I'd never tried before, like this really tasty black lentil dish and some kind of curried potato and cauliflower dish. I was going to do four trips, two for main course, one for soup (dal) and the last one for dessert, but by my second trip (where I had taken a large helping of chana masala, my all time favourite) I was ready to surrender. <br />
<br />
But I had to have my gulab jamun! That's my other all-time favourite! So I drank a LOT of water, and went to the bathroom and ate watermelon and sat for a long time, but I was so full it was painful! It hurt to stand up! Indian food is so filling! So I had one gulab jamun, which tasted amazing, and gave the other to my brother. Everything was cooked so well. Very warm and spicy and full of flavour.<br />
<br />
There were two things I didn't see: Mulligatwony (sp?) soup and Pakora. But pakora isn't really one of my favourites, although Mulliagatwony is. Definitely on my top 5 restaurants list, which has just formed in my brain now. Five stars! It was great. I just have to know my limits next time. Small servings, don't be a hero...<br />
<br />
This talk of food is making me hungry. Time for lunch!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-5036707344112462956?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-2418486960043015222011-01-19T15:17:00.000-08:002011-01-19T15:17:14.849-08:002011-01-19T15:17:14.849-08:00Quickie PostHi peoples,<br />
<br />
I'm a bit busy with school now, so I will make this short, but I just realized I left the blog on a sad note - that my first day back was bad, but the rest of the week actually went quite well. Thursday and Friday I was in an extremely good mood. And the weeks after that have been nice, too. I've kind of realized that everything I am afraid of is completely harmless. I'm afraid of learning to act, afraid of getting vocal techniques wrong, afraid of embarrassing myself in front of people, afraid of being criticized, afraid of not being at the same level as other people in my year, afraid that my repertoire isn't right for me, afraid of things that are out of my comfort zone, but all of that is just learning, and lately, the scariest things have been the most enjoyable things. So I've decided to not give a fuck and just enjoy myself. Does any of this really truly matter in the grand scheme of things? Definitely not. So I'm just going to try to enjoy myself, no matter what I'm doing, and try my best.<br />
<br />
Speaking of enjoying myself, I am still right into fanfiction.net. I check it every day. Sometimes more than every day. Although, I haven't posted on there too recently. People have been eating up my stories! Ok, not a lot, but I've actually been getting reviews and people subscribing to my stories. It's so awesome! And on the stats page it tells you how many people looked at your stories each day, and you can see all the different countries of the people reading your stories. My readers are mostly American and British, but I've got readers from Chile, Belgium, Mexico, Germany, France, etc... I love that site!<br />
<br />
Now off to do my homework for Acting for Singers... practicing my monologue, and critically watching "Pride and Prejudice." Yes, I am serious. I shall enjoy this assignment immensely.<br />
<br />
Until I post again,<br />
<br />
Psychicbyinternet<br />
<br />
P.S. I have no idea why this post has taken the form of a letter.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-241848696004301522?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-83875710904495749872011-01-04T17:28:00.000-08:002011-01-04T17:28:23.513-08:002011-01-04T17:28:23.513-08:00Back to School DepressionToday was my first day back and it depressed me and made me tired. What a wonderful start to the new year... University is simply a different world from home. I have so much less time and everyone around me seems so much, well, more impressive. You'd think I was in first year, double-taking at each person that walks by. I feel so impressive back in my hometown, but when I go back to university, I'm left wondering what it is that I have to offer? <br />
<br />
One course that I'm in is really intimidating. Acting for Singers. A friend of mine said it was mostly yoga, but we have readings, discussion of readings, we have to prepare a monologue, a scene with two other people and an aria. Writing it down now, it doesn't seem so bad, but it feels like I have to have all this stuff ready for the teacher so soon... It's kind of scary. I miss chilling out with my family and writing fanfics, isolated in my tidy house. I was fantasizing about those things all day. I already want to go home and I have three days left before I go home for the weekend. I'm such a baby when it comes to homesickness...<br />
<br />
No offense to my university apartment, but it's really not half as nice as home. And I'm constantly hand-washing my dishes... This morning, we hardly had any water and when I went to wash my dishes, hardly any water came out - not enough to wash anything, of course. It's back now, but student housing frustrates me. The landlord knows we don't know our rights, so he'll do a shoddy job with the hydro, the heating, the lighting, the fire alarm... Why can't landlords just do a good job, whether you're a student or not? Anyway, I have a feeling that I'm just depressed because it's my time of the month. But, all in all, not the greatest first day back after winter break. I really hope tomorrow is better. Time to go get some delicious corn chips!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-8387571090449574987?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-14513693925017166042011-01-03T13:39:00.000-08:002011-01-03T13:39:10.371-08:002011-01-03T13:39:10.371-08:00RiddlesThese are some old riddles I made. The answers are at the bottom of the post. Don't peak!<br />
<br />
1. This world has many disguises and accessories. It may have bumps one day, dots another, often many trenches, and very rarely some mountains and hills. It all depends where you travel. It can take on a variety of colours; Red, Blue, Yellow, White, Purple and Black. A chameleon of conditions, ever vulnerable. What is it?<br />
<br />
2. It bars the way but pulls lies out of our mouths. It puts the forks in the roads and makes mud surround our feet while with it we swoon for money. It stings you while you work, blocks the way to your big leap, separates you from other people... This deadly sin causes most worldly problems. What is it?<br />
<br />
3. Made up of firsts and seconds, this toolbox has many materials; silver, wood, brass, strings, steel and even plastic. It comes with instructions on paper, but they are strange alien symbols. Luckily you are supplied with a magic wand. Combine that and your logic and ears and you will have a work of art, prone to pretentiosity. What is it?<br />
<br />
4. Swallows your pride, never on your side, encourages lying, yawning, ambition, stealing and tea. You share with them one of your greatest secrets so that they can harness it. Your best friend and your worst enemy. What is it?<br />
<br />
5. Your body's boss, your brain's power-hungry advisor. What is it?<br />
<br />
6. Never warm until it's gone, always beautiful, can be deadly, made of fragile crystals, born of the never-ending blue. What is it?<br />
<br />
7. Acts as if you are a stranger, insults you, twists your arm and knows nearly everything about you. He would bite the bullet for you in any danger. What is it?<br />
<br />
8. It's descendants stand on top of it's trunk. Below, it soaks it's toes in hell. Without it, these words wouldn't be written in my notebook. What is it?<br />
<br />
9. The noise and culture of a subway station, squeezed into a giant Crayola box with wheels. What is it?<br />
<br />
10. It is as intricate and detailed as mathematics. Every spasm-causing agent has several formulas. Each culture has it's own stationary set. It belongs to everyone and can never be taken away! It was once free until the men in white wigs put it in a cage made of paper and threw in a few nasty creatures called critics. It is still capable of unleashing emotions but most of it's catches are lumpy, salty and runny. What is it?<br />
<br />
11. A miniature planet earth built from convulsions and think-on-your-feet arithmetic. This robotic fortune teller is often associated with Romans. What is it?<br />
<br />
*<br />
*<br />
*<br />
*<br />
*<br />
<br />
Answers:<br />
<br />
1. Skin<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
2. Pride<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
3. A Band or Orchestra<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
4. A singing teacher<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
5. Pain<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
6. Snow<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
7. A brother<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
8. A tree<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
9. A school bus<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
10. Music or music today<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
11. A clock<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hope you liked my riddles. Use them as quiz questions when people want stuff from you.<br />
<br />
Example:<br />
<br />
My brother: Can you buy me some ice cream?<br />
Me: Okay but you have to answer this riddle first.<br />
My brother: Okay I'll do it.<br />
Me: (insert one of my riddles) What is it? You get three guesses.<br />
My brother: Um, a house?<br />
Me: Nope.<br />
My brother: Um, a book?<br />
Me: Nope.<br />
My brother: Um, the ocean?<br />
Me: *shakes head* Sorry, no ice cream for you.<br />
<br />
And if you're really mean...<br />
<br />
My brother: What was it then?<br />
Me: Not telling. You'll have to keep guessing the next time you want something.<br />
My brother: I hate you.<br />
Me: I hate you too.<br />
<br />
This happens to be a really great money and resource-saving strategy!! <br />
<br />
Okay, bye for now! Happy New Year's!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-1451369392501716604?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-72589523840264631942011-01-02T20:18:00.000-08:002011-01-02T20:18:53.569-08:002011-01-02T20:18:53.569-08:00Happy New Year/2011! (Snowballs)Hi again,<br />
<br />
So I lied. I thought I'd only be back a few days after my post, but I was partially extremely busy with holiday and family stuff, traveling, etc and partially obsessed with a site I just discovered called fanfiction.net. It is simply awesome! Half the time I'm reading stories and the rest of the time I'm writing and posting them! Quizilla does this stuff too but I find that the grammar is not very good and it's more of a quiz site anyway. I've already written three stories and a person even reviewed one of my stories! If you want to see what I've written you can look at my profile at.... http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2669529/Psychicbyinternet<br />
<br />
I'm getting kind of frustrated with this website. I keep trying to change my background and template but the template wizard won't load and I keep trying to get AdSense to work but apparently "awaiting approval." It's been like that for at least a month no matter what I do. Maybe I should ask about this on Yahoo Answers. I wish they would make this site easier to use, for those who are technologically illiterate... :(<br />
<br />
So without further ado, I present you with some of my lovely snowballs, as a sequel to my reindeer droppings, although there is very little snow in my area of Canada right now... How un-festive!<br />
<br />
These are two unusual professor encounters, or should I say confrontations?<br />
<br />
<br />
Tweed Coat:<br />
<br />
The teacher laughed. A fish-faced grin on his face. He giggled. He cackled. Nothing was funny.<br />
We were alone in a room, learning. No punch line had been spoken. He began a snarky, maniacal laugh and returned to his deep, throaty chuckle. If anything had ever been funny it would have been how utterly terrified I looked. That - or my pathetic attempts at laughter. It seemed as if we were in a movie where the evil boss laughs at a baby crying or a man being kicked in the face and his employees must awkwardly conform to keep their jobs. He got serious.<br />
<br />
"Why aren't you laughing?"<br />
<br />
More laughing. "It's lonely laughing alone. It makes me feel like crying."<br />
<br />
A contorted face, imitating my inner emotions.<br />
<br />
"It's even lonelier to frown alone," I responded, not even attempting a laugh, "I don't suppose you would ever understand."<br />
<br />
His giggling died down. "No - I suppose not."<br />
<br />
"Why does this all have to be so awkward? Why did your laughter seem so horrible?"<br />
<br />
The student seemed troubled.<br />
<br />
"I just wanted to learn from you," she continued.<br />
<br />
"I understand - it's hard to laugh when nothing is funny."<br />
<br />
The teacher bowed his head, putting one hand in his left pocket.<br />
<br />
"Exactly! It's so nice for you to understand. I was worried that you might not," the girl turned to the enormous window covering the wall. Crows were scattered among the top floors of academic buildings, shrieking for attention.<br />
<br />
"I'd still be worrying if I were you," the teacher said.<br />
<br />
"Why's that? Is there a test?" the girl turned white.<br />
<br />
The man shook his head. "I lied," he smiled, "I'll never understand."<br />
<br />
And with that he shot her.<br />
<br />
And then himself. He stained his tweed coat.<br />
<br />
<br />
Tweed Coat (Immature Brother Remix):<br />
<br />
**My brother took my notebook and revised this story. No matter how many times I read it it still makes me laugh.<br />
<br />
<br />
The teacher laughed. A fish-faced grin on his face. He giggled. He cackled. Nothing was funny.<br />
We were alone in a room, learning. No punch line had been spoken. He began a snarky, maniacal laugh and returned to his deep, throaty chuckle. If anything had ever been funny it would have been how utterly terrified I looked. That - or my pathetic attempts at laughter. It seemed as if we were in a movie where the evil boss laughs at a baby crying or a man being kicked in the face and his employees must awkwardly conform to keep their jobs. He got serious.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Why aren't you laughing?"<br />
<br />
"Evil Boss man, Go Fuck Yourself." <br />
<br />
<br />
More laughing. "It's lonely laughing alone. It makes me feel like crying."<br />
<br />
<br />
A contorted face, imitating my inner emotions.<br />
<br />
"Waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" he cried. <br />
<br />
<br />
"It's even lonelier to frown alone," I responded, not even attempting a laugh, "I don't suppose you would ever understand."<br />
<br />
<br />
His giggling died down. "No - I suppose not."<br />
<br />
<br />
"Why does this all have to be so awkward? Why did your laughter seem so horrible?"<br />
<br />
The student seemed troubled.<br />
<br />
<br />
"I just wanted to learn from you," she continued.<br />
<br />
<br />
"I understand - it's hard to laugh when nothing is funny."<br />
<br />
<br />
The teacher bowed his head, putting one hand in his left crotch.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Exactly! It's so nice for you to understand. I was worried that you might not," the girl turned to the enormous window covering the wall. Rows were scattered among the top floors of academic buildings, shrieking for attention.<br />
<br />
<br />
"I'd still be worrying if I were you," the teacher said.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Why's that? Is there a test?" the girl turned white.<br />
<br />
<br />
The man shook his head. "I lied," he smiled, "I'll never understand."<br />
<br />
<br />
And with that he shot her.<br />
<br />
<br />
And then himself. He stained his tweed coat.<br />
<br />
<br />
Whiteboard Chat:<br />
<br />
The professor scrubbed the whiteboard with a black eraser and the students crowded out the door.<br />
She stood behind him, facing his back, waiting patiently.<br />
<br />
He whirled around with a concerned look, "Yes?"<br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"The last mark you got?"<br />
<br />
"No. Why?"<br />
<br />
"Why what?"<br />
<br />
"Why don't you care?" my eyes swelled up.<br />
<br />
He frowned.<br />
<br />
"Don't insult me. I've worked here nearly six years and I have helped every student who asked for it. Were you here for my first class? I told everyone that I care."<br />
<br />
"You're a good politician."<br />
<br />
"You're good at stagnating. Too bad it isn't a life skill."<br />
<br />
He turned around and continued erasing.<br />
<br />
She stood her ground, "You still didn't answer me."<br />
<br />
"I did. I care - about every student. I'd invite you to office hours, but you're being a smart ass."<br />
<br />
"You just did it!"<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"That not caring thing that you do. Why do you do that? And how? I couldn't do it. Is it in the cereal you eat every morning?"<br />
<br />
"No! I don't even know what you're talking about anymore," the prof scrubbed the last few symbols off the board.<br />
<br />
"Does your wife beat you? Do you eat unhealthily? Are you lacking friends? Have you been missing out on showers? Do you have... insomnia?"<br />
<br />
"No, no, no, no, no! Leave me alone! I don't care about you!" the man covered his mouth instantly.<br />
<br />
"Now that you've admitted your problem, which is half the battle, we can start solving it."<br />
<br />
She put her wire-rimmed glasses on and grabbed his briefcase.<br />
<br />
"Hey! That's mine!"<br />
<br />
"Is it that you care only about yourself and your belonging or are you otherwise inclined?"<br />
<br />
She searched his briefcase. Lecture notes. Pens. Highlighters. Rubber bands.<br />
<br />
"A condom?"<br />
<br />
"That's preposterous. I'd never bring something that inappropriate to school!"<br />
<br />
"And cocaine, heroin - crystalmeth?!"<br />
<br />
"You put those in yourself!"<br />
<br />
She shook her head, "this whole time I thought there was method to your madness."<br />
<br />
<br />
Viva Las Vegas: a Music Faculty Formal (January 15, 2010):<br />
<br />
As seventh chords and lustful dance tunes loiter in my head I remember a night that should have been longer, but yet was exhausting. I feel like an intense cocktail of hyper and coma. Meanwhile my cramps are still going strong, picking the perfect night to be at their worst. Dancing is a magical, fantastic thing. Total strangers, snobs, "celebrity" classmates mingle with the losers. Everyone accepts the man wearing the dress or the girl who looks androgenous. Inches away from legends.<br />
<br />
My fear melts away more and more as the songs continue to play. Accepting, yet so self-absorbed. Unless the dance needs a partner, they look away, no matter how insanely you dance. Sometimes people looked at me strangely when I made up movements and I felt so embarrassed. Copying people, recycling, bringing some back from the past. I wanted to use disco moves for every song, but I guess that would have been "uncool." <br />
<br />
Dance circles forming. I'd love to get in the middle of the circle with a guy and just do something scandalous... even something like grinding...<br />
<br />
I wanted attention so badly. <br />
<br />
He came. With a girlfriend. But he came. That was amazing enough. She seemed quite out of place, being from a different school. Beautiful in her turquoise dress, but out of place all the same. He barely knew anyone there as friends. She knew no one. He liked dancing. She seemed to not like large doses of it. Two lovely misfits.<br />
<br />
He danced with me. It happened so suddenly, and half the time I was certain that I was either dreaming or drunk. Amidst the crowd I spun away from him, pretending not to notice him coming toward me. I was so sure that he was trying to find someone behind me but he said "hi" and started dancing with me. Off to the side. "Billie Jean" was the song, and I later realized how appropriate it was. I couldn't help grinning. It was a dream. He was a charming dancer.<br />
<br />
"Do you know the moonwalk?!" I yelled in his ear.<br />
<br />
He smiled. "No, well, sort of..."<br />
<br />
We tried doing it at the same time, unsucessfully. Fast spins, corny hand gestures, the can-can, I tried different things hoping he wouldn't lose interest. I loved it when he pulled his hat over his eyes like Michael Jackson. Yet it was scary. He has a girlfriend. What if she looks and gets mad? Then again - we weren't slow dancing. But we danced for almost an entire song.<br />
<br />
But why would he leave her? Should I really associate with someone that cruel? Why did he? I'd hardly talked to him recently. Why was I suddenly appealing to him? Or maybe I was just a friend?<br />
<br />
When the song ended, it mixed into a slow dance. He left, knowing to report back to the girlfriend. I slowly left the dance floor in disbelief. It doesn't seem like much, I guess, but these are the sorts of things that really brighten my life and keep me alive. I've never danced with a guy that I had a serious crush on before. And I'd been infatuated with him since at least the first week of university. I felt so brave. <br />
<br />
He didn't dance with me again after that, but that little taste kept me hoping. I looked around so often, I think people were catching onto my crush. But it was so much just to dance with him once. <br />
<br />
I kept coming up with theories as to why. Maybe he just wanted some variety and danced with me as a friend. Maybe he was role-playing with his girlfriend and I was the bitchy part of the love triangle. Maybe, being a music nerd, he wanted to play out the situation of the song ("Billie Jean"). Most exciting theory: maybe he hates his girlfriend and he loves me. Maybe we'll start going out tomorrow. Extremely wishful thinking. I wonder what our classes together will be like now. No, I don't think anything exciting will happen in all honesty. Writing out all this just makes me even less attractive than my previous low. And yet...<br />
<br />
I could have danced all night! (If it were with him)<br />
<br />
---------------------------------<br />
<br />
P.S. Turns out after that weekend, when I saw him in class Monday morning, he acted as if nothing happened. He said "hi," but he didn't even talk about the Music Formal at all. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.<br />
<br />
<br />
Man Is:<br />
<br />
By nature a snarling violent beast<br />
How did I come to know you?<br />
They focus on violence and sex<br />
One at a time<br />
They think in straight lines<br />
Tunnel vision<br />
Did you know that men think about sex ninety percent of the time?<br />
How did I come to love you?<br />
Do they think about weapons the other ten percent?<br />
<br />
Man is means woman and man is<br />
Because woman cancels out<br />
It's simple math<br />
Don't worry your pretty little head about it<br />
Men know women are objects<br />
Women are objects<br />
Irrelevant in the grand equation<br />
<br />
Makes me so mad<br />
To see the smirk on your face<br />
As you get ahead<br />
Ninety nine percent of men are pigs<br />
At least forty nine percent of the world are pigs<br />
And that percentage rules the world<br />
<br />
Those dogs<br />
Fixated on their pistols and guns<br />
Are any of them my friend?<br />
Can I be safe with someone that different?<br />
Are they really all the same?<br />
But they've been leaving us with them for years<br />
<br />
<br />
He is coming:<br />
<br />
A hat from the 'twenties<br />
a slender form<br />
a dark blur approaches<br />
mumbled instructions<br />
to himself<br />
<br />
A pale face<br />
and round glasses<br />
a smooth, lazy voice<br />
declarations of the mundane<br />
walking down the hall...<br />
<br />
A strong dose of TMI<br />
with a hint of philosophy,<br />
genius?<br />
<br />
A cordial nod<br />
My heart attempts to<br />
strangle me<br />
I want to leave...<br />
<br />
That is how I know he is coming.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-7258952384026463194?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-22198779438012334712010-12-23T20:01:00.000-08:002010-12-23T20:01:44.755-08:002010-12-23T20:01:44.755-08:00Brain Droppings for the ReindeersHi folks,<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
I Heard That... (May 14, 2008):<br />
Some things last longer than others<br />
In conclusion, always remember..<br />
An eclectic mix of documentaries<br />
no one fit the description<br />
engages in matters<br />
walk out the door with government property<br />
Missionary work<br />
I could work on math, but...<br />
poop<br />
saying your name over and over<br />
Is this your water?<br />
Nooooooooooo!<br />
Saturday night<br />
I don't always either<br />
Thank you<br />
Buh Bye<br />
they're working on setting it up<br />
fall schedule cuts back<br />
This is just an incredible honour for someone like me<br />
I smell vomit<br />
You know<br />
This afternoon<br />
bright bright<br />
it's not even a good story<br />
fail this class<br />
this year and<br />
something good<br />
but<br />
harassing me<br />
unnecessary violence<br />
he opened the glass door<br />
the pile is growing<br />
<br />
**This poem or song was based on random phrases I overheard during the course of a day. So technically I didn't write it.<br />
<br />
Candy (May 14, 2008):<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
Catharsis (May 24-25, 2008):<br />
<br />
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...) <br />
<br />
Reaction after a happy, fun romantic comedy?<br />
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.<br />
Don't let the bed bugs bite.<br />
I always have the same reaction.<br />
But it's nothing like bliss or catharsis.<br />
Those are my alibies. I pretend.<br />
It's always just been... inadequacy.<br />
I definitely hate it, but what I wouldn't give to be up there with them, star of the show...<br />
I'd make it real, fun, intelligent, even historically accurate.<br />
UN-Broadway.<br />
Because who really likes "the way of the broads?"<br />
They push their voices until they're as nasal as anteaters.<br />
It's always been more about the acting for them, anyway.<br />
But I could act!<br />
I'd probably even have fun!<br />
They make it seem so easy, like they live in a perfect world.<br />
Anyone of their mistakes, I spot and then I cash in.<br />
I could do SO much better!<br />
I know I could do so much better...<br />
until<br />
drama class<br />
I tried so hard, but it's no fun<br />
acting when you know everyone<br />
wants, wants, wants<br />
what you don't:<br />
"That's not how you do it! A doctor has to know exactly what to do!"<br />
"Scream! People have to hear you!"<br />
"That's a dumb idea!"<br />
"Come up with something!"<br />
<br />
I give up. A play is a play is a musical is a musical.<br />
A play is a musical, not a concert.<br />
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.<br />
That's me.<br />
The one in the shadows.<br />
They all know me.<br />
But it's not me they're looking at.<br />
I'm not the one putting on a show.<br />
I just want to be rescued.<br />
I want to be loved, even noticed, for being the calm, cool, collected fan that deserves a chance.<br />
After the play, I just realize.<br />
Wait a minute, I'm just me...<br />
Just myself.<br />
Just a girl.<br />
Never a girlfriend.<br />
Never a diva.<br />
Never a star.<br />
Never a temptress.<br />
Never loved by the crowd.<br />
I don't have a public. I have a family. That's it! <br />
But maybe that's how it should be.<br />
<br />
<br />
Spain: A Rhyming Excercise (May 2008):<br />
<br />
Spain<br />
France<br />
Rain<br />
Pants!<br />
Pain<br />
Can't<br />
Hurt him.<br />
Rain<br />
Dance<br />
Brain<br />
Chance?<br />
Gain?<br />
Sham?<br />
Flirting<br />
Cane<br />
Ants<br />
Cain<br />
Aunts<br />
Pain<br />
Who wears the pants?<br />
Who wears the pants?<br />
Insane<br />
Disco Dance<br />
Insane<br />
Disco Dance<br />
<br />
Spain<br />
France<br />
Rain<br />
Pain<br />
Rain<br />
Brain<br />
Gain<br />
Cane<br />
Cain<br />
Pain<br />
Insane<br />
PANTS!!!!<br />
<br />
** One of my sillier pieces. It could be a song, I guess.<br />
<br />
<br />
The Green and White Snake (July 8, 2008):<br />
<br />
Words were never spoken or exchanged.<br />
"The GO Train is here."<br />
The only five words anyone there ever thought they needed to hear<br />
besides<br />
they weren't words<br />
they were mentality<br />
the briefcases<br />
purses<br />
newspapers<br />
click-a-clacks of heels<br />
rustling of zippers and keys<br />
scrapings of sandals<br />
rollings of bags<br />
sharp noses<br />
blank eyes<br />
all pointed at their exact target<br />
click clack<br />
click clack<br />
a steady stream<br />
of everyone and anyone<br />
men with full black business suits<br />
girls in Gouci and jeans<br />
ladies in Reitmans<br />
men in checkered shirts and khaki shorts<br />
like ants they piled into the<br />
green and white<br />
snake<br />
dreading the fatal announcement<br />
"last call! Last call!"<br />
they accelerated<br />
full grown men and women<br />
whipping and thudding and click-a-clacking<br />
the wind pushed them back to their cars<br />
the ground screamed "Stop!"<br />
but they didn't listen<br />
a woman<br />
all in blue<br />
who could raise the dead<br />
with her clacking<br />
daintily ran as fast as she could<br />
"DOORS SHUT!" the conductor's voice was muffled<br />
and he followed through<br />
in a spurt of perseverance<br />
soundlessly<br />
the doors closed<br />
At least the adults knew one thing<br />
no amount of noise could open them<br />
so they didn't try<br />
the blue-clad woman slowed to a stop<br />
the GO train had gone<br />
she slumped in the middle of the station<br />
the wind urged her<br />
but suddenly<br />
the train came again<br />
always there<br />
always gone<br />
CLICK CLACK<br />
the heels revived<br />
click clack<br />
click<br />
clack<br />
clack<br />
<br />
<br />
You're not a friend (July 2008):<br />
<br />
You're not a friend<br />
who was certain I'd never be there<br />
I didn't have a friend<br />
to cry on my shoulder<br />
I had a monotone, crackling wall for company<br />
I was plastered to the wall<br />
I believed it as eternity<br />
<br />
I planned my escape:<br />
How can I pull away?<br />
but you, the wall, stood fast<br />
You rejected my blood and tears<br />
as I tried to saw my hand off to escape<br />
<br />
You hated me<br />
And as I shook your plaster off,<br />
pulling away from you,<br />
I found a tar fence<br />
barbed wire<br />
sticky teeth<br />
<br />
You hated me<br />
How I knew a few things that you didn't<br />
But how you clung to me!<br />
So tight that it became your revenge<br />
<br />
You froze and became a block of ice<br />
You hated me so much that you would release me<br />
with a quick slide and slip I was free<br />
but it was the most cold, painful freedom I had ever felt<br />
I couldn't even return your rope<br />
without slipping and falling<br />
<br />
Now I can see through you<br />
I can see the other rooms<br />
I can see the people, the places, the world<br />
<br />
With you I was bound and blind<br />
<br />
But tonight I'll pass you by<br />
And maybe, if I'm dreadfully unlucky, I will taste that frozen tar<br />
and vomit<br />
<br />
Each gesture was an insult<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
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!<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Stay tuned for two interesting make-believe professor encounters...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-2219877943801233471?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-34937709007952327462010-12-08T14:25:00.000-08:002010-12-08T14:25:24.539-08:002010-12-08T14:25:24.539-08:00Ugly choir girlOkay, I lied. One more.<br />
<br />
Ugly choir girl:<br />
<br />
She always sits in front of me<br />
Face full of zits<br />
Frizzy tight curls<br />
Tacky clothes<br />
Thin as a pencil <br />
You're so greasy<br />
You're pizza<br />
You're macaroni and cheese<br />
<br />
Why are all the girls in this choir so hideous?<br />
I get sick to my stomach<br />
when I look at you<br />
you are the smell of sickening sweet<br />
an arts major<br />
insecure<br />
fishing for notes<br />
following the leader<br />
<br />
And worst of all<br />
you're blocking my view of him<br />
You negate the bliss I feel when I see his face<br />
He's looking at me now<br />
But you can't let him see me<br />
I think he loves me<br />
But you're blocking his view<br />
<br />
Who else would he want in this section?<br />
And then I glance behind me<br />
<br />
Big busty girl<br />
Blond greasy hair<br />
Bangles<br />
Eighties chic<br />
Blue eyes<br />
Brown coat<br />
Big tits<br />
Red pouting lips<br />
She's not ugly<br />
But by logic she should be<br />
<br />
And I realize I'm a fool<br />
It's her<br />
He can't stop looking at her<br />
<br />
I'm getting annoyed<br />
He can't control his head<br />
Always turned to my corner of the room<br />
What does she think of this?<br />
<br />
But she's gone<br />
I won't see her until tomorrow<br />
Was he looking at someone else?<br />
At me?<br />
I ponder the mystery<br />
Leaving choir and the pizza-faced girl<br />
with a smirk on my face<br />
<br />
Maybe I'm not an ugly choir girl<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-3493770900795232746?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-71789539656059792792010-12-08T14:08:00.000-08:002010-12-08T14:08:04.091-08:002010-12-08T14:08:04.091-08:00The Walrus and the NarwhalOne 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.<br />
<br />
The Walrus and the Narwhal:<br />
<br />
The results are in<br />
I couldn't resist<br />
I had to find my future<br />
So I opened the box<br />
and had a little fun<br />
All I ever wanted<br />
was the narwhal and the walrus<br />
<br />
I dusted it off<br />
the plastic green box<br />
from my days of innocence<br />
full of tiny noble animals<br />
from every kingdom<br />
So precious to me<br />
I couldn't ever give it away<br />
<br />
I dusted them off<br />
and put them in couples<br />
everything in pairs<br />
everyone in pairs<br />
Just like our world<br />
And I wanted the walrus<br />
but what choice did I have?<br />
So I added some consolation prizes...<br />
<br />
I'm bound to get one of them<br />
The Walrus who slouches<br />
The Ant who never listens<br />
The Turtle who talks to himself<br />
The Whale with the deformity<br />
The Praying Mantis (too religious!)<br />
The T-Rex with the family situation<br />
Or at least the Shark who seems a little gay<br />
I entered with seven ballots<br />
<br />
So I paired the world off<br />
the animal kingdom<br />
inter species was the point<br />
but it couldn't work<br />
I got the seal<br />
Probably beautiful<br />
but not who I want<br />
Dissapointment ruled me<br />
And I had to know what happened<br />
Maybe I just wanted power?<br />
Well they all found other species<br />
Probably forgot about me<br />
even the Walrus<br />
he got an old Elephant<br />
<br />
The feeling was dangerous<br />
nostalgic<br />
but all I ever wanted<br />
was the Walrus and the Narwhal<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-7178953965605979279?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-25185211935825258922010-12-08T13:53:00.000-08:002010-12-08T13:53:59.357-08:002010-12-08T13:53:59.357-08:00Hospital WhisperHospital Whisper<br />
<br />
Your voice was so cold<br />
when I told you<br />
Different, inhuman<br />
I never experienced that<br />
I guess I thought telling you<br />
would change you<br />
into a superhero<br />
who would save the damsel in distress<br />
The girl who lost her mother<br />
<br />
Pitch black<br />
But my eyes had adapted<br />
I knew from the start<br />
you were a douche<br />
But I've become blind lately<br />
It was just like<br />
Just like you were<br />
Talking to a patient in a hospital<br />
at night<br />
As if you were about to rape her<br />
Maybe you're a vulture<br />
<br />
But I don't think you feed on that meat<br />
It was just so fake<br />
And I regretted it<br />
Thinking I could trust you<br />
You don't care<br />
I guess<br />
Why would you?<br />
<br />
I want to know<br />
how you work<br />
How you've become this<br />
but it's too late<br />
I leave tomorrow at eleven<br />
No time<br />
No time to even give you a chance<br />
<br />
And we both say "you" so much<br />
Me because I loved you<br />
You because you wanted to lead me on<br />
<br />
I guess that's all it ever was<br />
just trying to catch a fish<br />
And every time you asked me about school<br />
it was just to know your fucking deadline<br />
<br />
I still hope it isn't true<br />
I pray for flowers or nice words<br />
But I know deep down<br />
nothing will happen tomorrow<br />
Time will tell<br />
Just prove it to me<br />
<br />
Maybe I have to cry<br />
I was really hoping not<br />
But the way things are going<br />
it probably won't take much<br />
<br />
I loved you<br />
It seemed you were the only one<br />
who noticed my glasses or my hair<br />
No boy ever could before<br />
Now I know why your act was so important<br />
Or do I?<br />
What's in it for you?<br />
I'll never know<br />
<br />
And I still hope it isn't true<br />
I wish for flowers or nice words from you<br />
But I can tell you're bored stiff<br />
You know all the tricks<br />
and you just want the loot<br />
you'd rather stare at my flat chest<br />
And daydream until I'm trhough<br />
<br />
Mom would never approve of you<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-2518521193582525892?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-31164377501793135452010-12-08T13:40:00.000-08:002010-12-08T13:40:00.996-08:002010-12-08T13:40:00.996-08:00Spring CabanaI 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...<br />
<br />
Spring Cabana:<br />
<br />
Like a holiday in a person<br />
The ultimate diplomat<br />
Gilded with tweed<br />
Won the Euclid and the Fermat<br />
Child prodigy<br />
And a perfect gentleman<br />
A perfect gentleman<br />
<br />
You were Atlantis<br />
when I first met you<br />
I was so terrified<br />
that I couldn't impress you<br />
You were so perfect<br />
So beautiful<br />
You smelled like flowers<br />
<br />
Had to know what the smell was<br />
What flower?<br />
Where are you from?<br />
What are you? Who are you?<br />
A breath of fresh air?<br />
An angel, a fairy?<br />
A devil, a liar?<br />
<br />
You packed up your Viper's tongue<br />
Your lyre<br />
Your childish analogies<br />
It seems you have a taste for<br />
skinny pale intellectuals<br />
with unusual but not improbable hair colours<br />
And now you're in Florence<br />
<br />
Did I scare you away?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-3116437750179313545?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-13346671308860688902010-12-08T13:32:00.000-08:002010-12-08T13:32:13.277-08:002010-12-08T13:32:13.277-08:00Today and Missing MomIt'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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
I need to study for my history final, so I don't want to waste too much time. I want to ace it! <br />
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.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-1334667130886068890?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-86141621640927332522010-11-11T21:23:00.000-08:002010-11-11T21:29:39.542-08:002010-11-11T21:29:39.542-08:00Remembrance Day and other musingsI was debating whether I would write tonight. I think I will. Some of this is stuff I wrote around 11:10 am, so here we go:<br />
<br />
So it's 11:10 am. I just saw the Remembrance Day ceremony in the concourse of my school. At my university the Remembrance Day ceremony is optional, which is good if you want the disrespectful people not to disrupt things, but a lot of people have class and can't observe the ceremony unless class is interrupted. The profs don't usually stop class for the MINUTE of silence, which is pretty dumb. It looked like they closed the Starbucks down for the assembly, so people wouldn't be talking while it was happening. Those guys probably appreciated the break. At the end the guest veteran said "You should appreciate what you have and be thankful that you have what you have." It's the message we hear every year, but it stuck with me today. It seems impossible, but I could be wearing a swastika armband in a war-torn Canada, forced to report any Jews to the police, eventually dying a violent death because I have brown hair. I don't understand a lot of what happened. For me, Remembrance Day is remembering the soldiers and Jewish people and others that died by the millions, hoping that World War II will never happen again, wearing a poppy (which usually scares me because of the pin - I'm a wimp), going to a ceremony or assembly, hearing the last post and standing for a full minute of silence at 11 am.<br />
Where did the last post even come from? When did they play it before this? Was it written especially for Remembrance Day? Is it a war call? A song of peace? A death lament?<br />
One thing I definitely like about Remembrance Day is that it's still a fairly recent "Day" and it's not about celebrating or consuming. So none of those greedy companies can make too much money off of it. Knowing them, they've probably conducted some way to make money off of it, just not as much as Christmas or Hallowe'en. But what could they gain? They can't even sell poppies. The money goes to veterans. And it's one of the few special days of the year that is observed by everyone in our country that is not a celebration. It is a day of remembrance, regret, a vow to improve society... People don't make a fuss. They just wear poppies and hopefully take a minute out of their day to stand in silence and reflect...<br />
<br />
Oh yes, don't get the Gingerbread Loaf at Starbucks. Overpriced (as always) and not only did they put nuts in it and other random crap, they also put chopped up orange peels on top of the delicious cream cheese icing, ruining the entire thing. Just horrible. Who came up with such a terrible instrument of torture?? My palate is still recovering. No, that's just the tea that burnt my tongue this morning. It still sucked. Orange peels go in the garbage, not in your mouth. And that sounded dirty.<br />
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The hot guys never notice me. They walk right past, because they are paying attention to someone better. Pigs.<br />
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I love watching Ouran High School Host Club. Tamaki is dead sexy... in a miniskirt! Couldn't resist... I especially love the fact that he is voiced by Vic Mignogna. Did I spell it right? That's why I only watch the dub. I wish I could live in the fantasy world that is Ouran High School Host Club. It sounds better than my life. I could be wrong.<br />
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What would it be like to find out someone loves you, has a crush on you? I've never experienced it for sure. Maybe it would be lovely.<br />
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I always hear people talking about how it's unfair that Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and Justin Bieber are so popular when there are more talented people that should be popular instead of them. Oscar Wilde once wrote "everything popular is wrong." He nearly has a point. But what if Lady Gaga suddenly CHANGED. She started writing songs kind of like Imogen Heap, so not a huge change, but more depth to the music and lyrics. And she wore more clothing when performing and making music videos. You know, a bra and a shirt, instead of just a little tape on your breasts... I've actually noticed that most decent music has been coming from artists that are fairly clothed most of the time. Mozart wore clothes and he coincidentally wrote musical masterpieces and became extremely popular. You see, unlike Imogen Heap and others that have talent, but not a lot of popularity, she has the popularity. She just doesn't have a lot of talent. So she could potentially further increase her fan base, by actually making good music and wearing clothing.<br />
So what would happen to her popularity? Would it go up or down? Who could say? I'd listen to her. I don't know. If anyone is reading this, what do you think? Was this a stupid theory? I guess if they listened to her because of the bad songs and the stripping, why would they listen to something that isn't that? I don't know.<br />
<br />
I wonder what the word limit is. Is it bottomless? That would be cool. I'd sit here and write until I die. I'd have enough pages to build a house out of books made of my writings. That would be fun. Do people usually anonymously comment on these things? Or are you supposed to promote your blog and get people you know to subscribe? I'm new at this. I don't know if anyone will read it. I guess I'll just have to be patient. Or....................<br />
<br />
NEXT ENTRY!!!!! ALL ABOUT HOW TO MAKE A CAR OUT OF DICKS SO YOU REALLY ARE LITERALLY COMPENSATING FOR YOUR SMALL PENIS!!!!!!!!! STAY TUNED!<br />
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Ha. Just kidding. I'm tired. Goodnight, whoever you people are!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-8614162164092733252?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-56509298760910258262010-11-10T22:21:00.000-08:002010-11-10T22:24:40.981-08:002010-11-10T22:24:40.981-08:00TodayI think the time is wrong on this blog. It's 1:24 am for me but it says 10:24 pm or something on here. I don't know what's going on and I don't know who to change it. Just letting you know I am 3 hours behind the times, which is fairly depressing. I'm so tired. I can't wait to sleep. I should be doing my french homework, but I will first post this poem I wrote. It's repetitive at times because maybe I will turn it into a song.<br />
<br />
Today is my last day<br />
I having energy drinks<br />
I am giving them hope<br />
No one will see this<br />
Who would know where I stole this snippet from?<br />
Very vague<br />
But I don't care<br />
I have to write this poem<br />
I don't know if it's a song yet<br />
<br />
I stared blankly at the screen<br />
for a couple minutes<br />
What the hell does he mean?<br />
Is it the last day... forever?<br />
But maybe it's the last day<br />
and then he has a big vacation<br />
recovers from that back injury<br />
<br />
Today is my last day<br />
I am having energy drinks<br />
I am giving them hope<br />
Drugged up like the guy<br />
who went to Vegas<br />
How could you understand me?<br />
<br />
But that woman said she missed working with him<br />
Does that mean he's gone?<br />
Does that mean he's leaving?<br />
Leaving me?<br />
How could he?<br />
My heart is crumbling<br />
I wish this was a bad dream<br />
<br />
I used to long for Today<br />
Today is the last day<br />
I am having energy drinks<br />
I am giving them hope<br />
I'm sure it has nothing<br />
nothing, nothing to do with me<br />
<br />
Feeling hollow inside<br />
I have to stop caring<br />
about that nerd<br />
with hidden depths<br />
hidden depths<br />
he's a puzzle<br />
I'll never finish<br />
never finish<br />
<br />
Today is my last day<br />
I am having energy drinks<br />
I am giving them hope<br />
When there is none<br />
And I'll miss you (you don't miss me)<br />
I'll miss you (you can't miss me)<br />
I'll miss you (you never kissed me)<br />
I missed you (you never missed me)<br />
I guess I missed you<br />
You never missed me<br />
You never missed me<br />
Have a good one<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-5650929876091025826?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-18884470597420479802010-11-10T14:23:00.000-08:002010-11-10T14:23:06.658-08:002010-11-10T14:23:06.658-08:00Oh, waitOh wait. I also play piano and flute. Someday I want to learn guitar. That is all.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-1888447059742047980?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-590902787663641677.post-88228805228242305692010-11-10T14:12:00.000-08:002010-11-10T14:12:38.722-08:002010-11-10T14:12:38.722-08:00Hello, pleased to meet you!So this is my very first blog post. Pretty exciting. I wasn't sure what to write about on this first blog and I think this first post will be short. I've seen other blogs about cooking, sewing, creating art, singing, being a waiter, doing people's makeup, so many things. The one theme I'm seeing is that it has to be something creative and interesting. And although I'm an undergraduate singer studying voice at university, I don't really want it to just be about that. I'm also really into writing poetry and prose, reading, exploring music, travel (although I'm not rich enough to do that regularly), vegetarianism, cooking, drawing, languages, swimming and many other things. I want to start writing songs soon, because it sounds like fun. <br />
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I work at Wal-Mart during the summer (although I plan on finding something better next summer), and I might come back for the dreaded Christmas season, so I will probably have quite a few horror stories to tell. It's really not that bad, but sometimes really screwed up shit happens. <br />
<br />
I'm a soprano. Some have said that I'm a coloratura. I myself am not sure. I sing opera, art songs, oratorio, etc but I also love to sing other genres like big band (I am actually in a big band), jazz, rock, folk, alternative rock/indie, etc. I'm open to pretty much all styles of music and I love new music, sometimes even when it's dissonant or really unusual. I love music, basically. The one genre that I only slightly like is hip-hop/rap. I find that a lot of those songs take songs that have already been written, make that the loop and then do a rap over it that doesn't do the song justice. They really like to do this with classical music for some reason. I guess the contrast. Anyway, I do like some rap/hip-hop but mostly I'd rather listen to the Edge (if you've heard of that radio station). I'm pretty sure I want to be a singer and/or a music teacher when I get older. At least something sort of having to do with music. But I'm not completely sure. So I have officially decided that this blog will be about self-discovery. Thus the title which quotes the "Logical Song" by Supertramp.<br />
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I'm also a left-wing agnostic and I live in Canada, just to give you a little vague personal information. I have two brothers and a dad, but sadly my mom died of cancer over the summer. It's been really hard to get used to, but I think it has helped me grow up a lot. I still really miss her every day.<br />
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I love writing. I deal with my feelings that way pretty much on a daily basis. I recently finished "The Artist's Way", a course in creativity by Julia Cameron and I still do morning pages and occasional artist dates. Morning pages have really helped me express my feelings in writing. I'm not sure if they've helped my creativity. But because of them I can write a lot. I can just write and write and write. Thanks, Julia Cameron! So I hope you have good eyes, should I choose to go on a blogging/writing binge.<br />
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All the blogs I've seen look really interesting. It's a nice way to let out what you have to say and to have your own space to write, create, have fun, interact. Better than your own website? I don't know.<br />
<br />
It would be nice for my friends to read this blog but I'm worried that I might want to write about people that I really hate or love, or things that I don't want people I know to know about. It's hard to explain, but I like my privacy. So I have decided to be anonymous. <br />
<br />
Also, I recently quitted facebook. I had an essay due and I don't think I would have finished it if I didn't quit. It's also not very useful. It's just a sophisticated stalking tool. I felt like I was getting way too obsessed with other people and their lives. I'd constantly check my news and the walls of guys I like, check out friends of friends. Really weird. And also there's that odd feeling when you talk to your friend and you ask "How was your weekend?" and they say "Oh great. I went surfing and sang karaoke in a bar with my friends" or whatever, but you already know, because their status says "Great weekend. Went surfing and sang karaoke at a bar until 4 am with my buddies." But you ask anyway, because, well, you don't want them to know that you know. Very strange. I don't need to know all this information about people. If I need to contact people I'll email them. But I still want something fun to do online other than email and youtube. And this is actually kind of productive at the same time. In conclusion, facebook is the devil and blogging sounds like a good alternative. <br />
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That said, I welcome you to my blog I hope it entertains you, and me.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/590902787663641677-8822880522824230569?l=iknowitsoundsabsurdpleasetellmewhoiam.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Psychic By Internethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11292800282481552105noreply@blogger.com0