C'est seulement que j''etais si confortable et chaud

Hey kid, good morning-
You look like
An angel

I guess we can both be that way.
I guess I'll do nothing to stop you.
Taking it back now is going to be hard now.
Here I go- something unpredictable, indeed.

I will do all that I can, with whatever I have, wherever I am. And I'll let good enough be good enough.

Les etoiles qui brulaient si fort, qu'elles pleuraient

I'm not certain, I know how...

It's actually been a few splendid days, with more last minute sleeping in and relaxing coming up. I am a little ashamed to admit I did brave the mall on Boxing Day, Chinook mall nonetheless, giving into the consumerist materialism that runs rampant among these parts. I will own up to that much. I will also own up to the fact that I did it purely because I like to look pretty in new clothes. So there. I said it.
Also, to Emily Hyrcha, who may or may not read my blog:
Once upon a time, I complimented you on your beautiful buoyant curls and expressed a wish for my curls to be just as beautiful and buoyant. You took me aside and whispered to me (all the while furtively glancing from side to side) that the secret was, in fact, in the shampoo you used. Just today I used that very shampoo. The result? Beautiful buoyancy in my curls. I do thank you for this. You were on my mind today, as you were last night when I saw the penguin commercial. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp! indeed.
I've had relaxy days, spent learning how to play Ode to Joy on the guitar. Indeed, I can now play the 'G' chord, 'G7', 'D7', and 'C'- try not to flood me with too many compliments, I'm working on my modesty. I've also been keeping up the running thing, which helps to arrest the many chinook-induced nosebleeds that I do not enjoy. Also, if I wake up early to go on my run, then I get to go to bed nice and early, which I am also not ashamed to admit I enjoy.
Tonight, Kaylie is going to bring over more animated movies for me to enjoy (I saw How To Train Your Dragon a few nights ago; needless to say, it was fabulous, after all, it was about Vikings) tonight, and, amidst banter about boys and sippage of tea (I imagine), we will watch 'Despicable Me', which I have also yet to see. I'm really behind on my watching of animated movies. Tomorrow, of course, will be fantastical also because a potluck lunch, in our dear Shannon's honor, is to be held here, within my humble abode, with hottub and many Christmas cookie leftovers to be enjoyed. And, of course, more boy banter and tea sippage. I find that this occurs regularly in my humble abode. And I am DEFINITELY ALSO completely unafraid to admit this.
Also, to be noted; if you ever want to wear pants ever again, I would suggest not purchasing lululemon's WunderUnder legging-majigs. They are the most comfortable thing in the history of comfortable things. And I am including purple snuggies in this count. (Well, maybe not purple snuggies. But definitely other colors of snuggies.)
Also, to be noted; Hannah and Lyndsay will be doing hot yoga on Thursday morning. Just a sidenote, to enunciate how awesome my life is.
Also, New Year's is going to be fantastic. (See above.)
Also, Eric Miller, has your sister had her baby yet? You are NOT keeping me informed.

Further accomplishments of winter break:
1. I learned how to steam milk. Now, I have unlimited access to foam. Enough said.
2. I want inside, so that I can see, what's going on, if I'm there, where I opened, in the spaces in between the scars, hello hello, are you listening up there?
3. HANNAH I KEEP FORGETTING TO TELL YOU BUT THAT BEAUTIFUL LOTION THAT YOU HAVE WAS STILL ON SALE SO I BOUGHT SOME OF THAT BITCH AND I LOVE IT SO.

Et pour la dernier journee de Noel...

I am proud to say that I can now become an unwashed, indie hippy kid who can play all of four chords on her beautiful new guitar... However, these are the only chords needed to play a bajillion pop hits ( I mean, indie obscure...nonhits); if you don't believe me, search "4 chord song" by Axis of Awesome (I think) on youtube. You will be pleased.

That buzzy feeling will not go away, no matter how many delicious Christmas suppers I fill my tummy with (two; but who's counting?) Olive, I need more of your help, I think. Maybe soon.

Astonishing...

She's right, you know. I have my grandmother's eyes, but my own will to hold on and stay sturdy on my single-captained ship. As long as there is promise of sea turtles to accompany me wherever I go, swimming fluidly along the bow. Guiding me home.

Un poste base entierement sur la beaute de cette image

See, now you're just trying.

...uhh, Happy Merry Christmas Eve.

Baby steps.

Le premier, Noel...

I love those moments when you just really, truly understand someone. When you just know, inexplicably, how to explain everything that they're trying in vain to inexplicably explicate through conveying explications. And so, as I sit here reading my good friend Rachel's blog, I find myself smiling a little and nodding, whilst I too, yawn and try to think of ways to spend my time until I can, forgivably, go to bed.

Also, it is Christmas eve tomorrow.

I spent a little bit of time right there, during the space, looking at my blogs from last year. It's strange, because it doesn't feel like that long ago, but on the other hand, there are these funny buzzy feelings in my tummy when I read parts of them. It's funny, because around this time last year I wrote a blog about me and Rachel Schneider and how we were feeling the same sort of feelings then, too; (resentment over Chemistry 20, but who gives a flying reindeer.) (I'm becoming more creative with my curses, I feel. It must be the Christmas spirit. Or Eric, finally having some impact on me. But no, probably the former.)

I spent a little bit of time right there, during that space, thinking about where I want to be next year, when I'm, re-reading this blog. I feel like I shouldn't share in this space. Possibly because it'll make more funny buzzy feelings in my stomach, completely unrelated to the coconut shortbread cookies I have just ate (...oh no, wait, that was like...3 hours ago. Hm.) But I don't want to jinx it.

I don't want to jinx it. 
But I'm doing weirder and weirder things as time goes on. 

Donc, ceci c'est le Noel

I guess it's just that I thought...well.
I think a lot of things.
Most of them are silly, some are ridiculous, and some feature my brain. That makes everything up. That makes me imagine things (which comes from the words 'image' and ...'ine'), things that are completely contrary to the way things are. Like upside down, backwards, and inside out, on the opposite side of the color spectrum, and smelling just not quite right. A little like...well, you know.
I like bright lights, hot chocolate, and the TV show that Hannah and I will be the stars of as soon as we find the right baby to steal. Preferably not budgers, or hay-throwers, or fat sluts.

I guess it's just that I thought...well.

1. Falling slowly, eyes that know me.

Un pas en arriere, un pas en avant

...and even if you feel like you're moving, you're still just pacing.

The sun is finally out today, on this fine December 22, at 11:19 in the morning. I will go out for my run soon- just waiting for that word I can't think of...something like inspiration, influence...you know, that one that will be the catalyst for an action...waiting for...
Yes, my brain is already losing its smarts from a healthy lack of school. Franchement, la, I'm okay with it. Breaks are needed. Breaks are good for thinking. Breaks are good for brains, for skin, for sleep, for...pituitary glands...
Maybe sort of.
I'm kind of in a bizarre mood right now, and can't really place why, exactly, or what I should be doing to maybe reglement this mood. Maybe when the en-dolphins get flowing, it will clear my nose, clear my throat, open my eyes, clean my face, open my brain to the rational, proper thinking required to make cookies all day. Or something?

1. Little actions, little notes, little prayers.
2. Gives me courage, to give you courage.
3. Connecting to the tightrope, where I'm hanging by a finger.
4.  Doin' what comes nat'rally.
5. Maybe not the best idea.
6. Where are my headphones?
7. Lost in my purple snuggie.
8. Lost where the other lost things are.
9. Always been like a hummingbird...

C'est ici que je sort du train

Exhausting- but better- days.
I feel tired, all the time; but not a worn-down tired anymore. I just feel contentedly tired, knowing that I can go to sleep without having to worry about this, or that, or both this and that, or something else completely, or all three. Knowing that I can get up and go about my business, with or without French toast, going for cold morning jogs that wake me up, collecting bottles door-to-door for causes I'm not even a part of (but I'm in it for the Starbucks), listening to lovely recitals played by lovely musicians who are all so friendly and wear purple ties. Preparing for spending time with friends in the minus 2 weather, instead of minus 14. Painting pictures of wildness, spending refreshing evenings of solitude with my head and soothing strokes of paint. But content, at the end of the day, going to bed with ice on my silly, silly knee and stories of Pad thai, acceptance, and warm hands in my deepest heart of hearts. (With visions of sugar plums...or rather, texts from Kaylie watching silly movies and offering me cookies, advice, and advice about cookies. Mmm, cookies.)

Kaylie: is a good snuggler.
Hannah: is a lovely duet partner.
Rachel: is a good bottle collector.


I hope you are all having a rotten time in Hawaii.


Secrets:

C'etait seulement que j'aimais tellement cette photo

Reasons I like my friends:

+ It's okay that we don't like each other's blood-filled endometriums.
+ They like getting socks for Christmas.
+ They let me know when my plans of attack are too...violent
+ They approve of my plans of attack
+ They sing songs with me and make me all sloppy and cry-y and emotional
+ They respect my bow, even if they don't like bows all that much themselves
+ They are not fat sluts (one-year anniversary of said account; do you remember?)
+ They don't get QUITE as thrilled as I do about my sparkly cookies, but they pretend to
+ They sing songs from Spamalot in ugly Camelot costumes
+ et cetera

Hannah: you buy him something confusing, funny...sticky...(maple syrup. I realise that sounded kind of dirty.)
Which is exactly what you have done.
And now you get to spend time with person.
And figure all these sticky situations out. (See what I did there?)

(I want to know what I look like, from someone else's eyes.)
HELLO, PAST LIFE:
Oh Juliet -when we made love you used to cry, 
used to swear like the stars above well you’d love me till the day that we died:


frozen eyelashes 
christmas books 

lullabies 
lucky pennies

Aurevoir, mon estomach

...Spent the last hour getting through applications for U of A and (trying to understand the complicated application process of) Concordia. The farther and farther I got, the clenchier and knottier and swishier my stomach became. I don't know if this is a good sign. Maybe it's just everything, plus this, plus that, plus them, plus the Queen of Sheba and the King of Kazoo.

Maybe it's just that, like all my fellow Aberhart-ians, I really don't know whether I am ready to do this or not. I thought it would be clearer and easier, now. Now that things have sort of a little bit changed. I guess I was wrong about that, too. 

I'm often wrong.

(But don't tell; I put on this persona of being always right. And I am. What? Always right? Of course.)

I want a wormhole for Christmas.

That, or a very, very comfortable blanket to sink into for the next three weeks or so. 

Trop tard

+

sun runs
underwear shopping
heartattack cookies
angsty avril lavigne
eat pray love

-
i don't know if you hid it for my benefit
but i saw it.
other people who are happy
the fact that that makes me feel icky
ice

Regardez toujours sur la cote positif de la vie

I am going to wear flowers in my hair, and
enjoy my morning runs
that will soon be afternoon runs
and i am going to do what kaylie tells me to do
and I am going to uninstall and then reinstall iTunes because I
don't know what's wrong with that bitch
But instead of being frustrated at the way it ruins
my life
I am going to fix it.
I am going to read books, be educated
Study the endocrine system
wear harem pants
Sing (alot)
maybe finally write more songs
(not stupid angsty ones)
wear different necklaces (sometimes when I feel like it)
(actually probably not)
clean my room more often
point my feet harder

I can learn (sort of)  to be someone and me
who is not the breakdown sort (in public places and maybe in private but you won't know that)

(this doesn't mean anything unless you want it to)

La douleur exquise

cold winds;
blowing

mistletoe;
drooping

candles;
melting

vision;
narrowing

breaking;
point

C'est le temps de ramasser

Glee made me cry, when Rachel sang her song. I have serious issues.
I don't even like that show anymore. My mind is being laid siege on by whatever the opposite of serotonin is, if that is happy hormone. I can't remember though.
I keep wishing to back, just 24 hours ago, to when this was getting easier, instead of harder.
I don't want it to be Christmas anymore.
I don't want it to even be the weekend yet-
I don't want to make this harder on you.
But all I want for Christmas...

Broadway;
A quiet night at home


I'm lost and I'm lonely, and I can't find my way anymore


Not a soul alive who can get behind this wall


Hands touch


Eyes meet

"Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens."

"I live in the clouds. Reality is not for me. People say I should come down. That the clouds are not a place for grown ups to be. I smile at them; maybe one day, I say, maybe one day I will come down. But I never will. Reality is not for me. I shall stay up here. The view is quite breathtaking."

"It's hard to  wait around for something you know might never happen:  but it's even harder to give up everything when you  know it's everything you want."

Aujourd'hui, le 6 decembre

Today, I feel like I accomplished something.
Don't ask me about Dido and Aeneas or A Mighty Fortress Is Our God unless you really want to hear all about it.
Also, flippy knee thing? Hello. That hurts.
Also, I hate you stupid slutty girls. Stop wearing your pushup bras and false eyelashes. Nobody's falling for it.
You're insecure and I like it.

Est ce que vous croyez, comme moi, je crois?

Fantastic show....1/2 of the audience did not even see the plotholes/potholes. Good on you, all.
I was going to then write 'now, to business:', and list said business, but I don't even know what kind of business I wanted to discuss, right now. I don't really remember. Nor is this a remotely interesting blog entry.

Fun fact:
Water Music by Handel was written in 1717, for King George I. It was first performed on a barge, carrying the musicians down the river Thames, for the people of London to enjoy. Also because they were unsure of how they felt about their king and he thought it would be a good way to appease them. It is set for 2 trumpets,  2 French horns, 2 oboes, a bassoon, strings and a timpani acting as basso continuo.
This dance suite has five movements: Allegro, Alla hornpipe, a Minuet, Lentement, and finally, a Bouree. It is in D major, and the first movement begins in 4/4 time.
The Allegro movement, commencing in D major and quadruple meter, with an ABA form, announces itself with a fanfare-like theme in the trumpets. A descending scale in the violin answers this main theme. Section B is opened once more by trumpets, with a modulation to the dominant of A major, declaring themselves in a dotted rhythm motif which is imitated by the French horns amidst dialogue between the strings and brass. Section A then repeats in D major, and an Adagio section acts as a bridge between the first and second movements.
Alla hornpipe, the second movement, also begins in D major, in a 3/2 time signature, in ABA form. The A section features a disjunct, D major theme in the strings and double reeds. At a moderate and spritely tempo, it is reintroduced by the trumpets and French horns. The B section is in B minor, featuring a fast-moving and syncopated theme shared by the strings and the woodwinds. The A section then repeats, ending in a D major cadence.


....Now I only have to do that with about 20 more things, and I'll be solid.

Restez calme si tu peux- moi, je ne peux rien faire correctement

Can I plead temporary insanity?
I guess that doesn't really work in situations like these.

What a wonderful phantasmagorical show we put on last night, ladies and gents. No need to note that we didn't really have a dress rehearsal. Since when does any Aberhart musical need one of those? Not when we have women in love with men who secretly like to dress like women, twins with matching shirts, too many bangles to count, and creepy rapists in potato sacks. I'm telling you, who needs 'em?

It's cold.

I have a feeling my friend the dodo bird would not enjoy it here, either. Too bad we'll never know.

Do you remember
A cold night close to the end

Laissez tomber vos cheveux

Pas de coeur de lion; des oreilles de chauve-souris

so try to be somebody
hang my head break my heart built from all I have torn apart
so try to feel somebody

walks through the garden rows, in her bare feet, laughing
so try to leave somebody

please remember me fondly
so try to be somebody 

lover, please do not fall to your knees

it's not as if i believe in

je sais quelques coeurs qui sont les plus pures que j'ai jamais connu

I don't know what I have done in my life to deserve such wonderful, wonderful friends. I can honestly and happily (and between sobs) admit that 2/3 cries today have been because of the astounding wonderfulness of these people. There are friends, and there are you guys.
I don't even want to write a blog about you, except to hope that maybe you'll appreciate it a fraction of the amount I am appreciating you right now.

Emily Hyrcha, you wonderful, wonderful tea-bringer. I'm sorry I started to cry on you when you gave me your card and your lovely presents in the form of tea bags and silly jokes about rabbits. I'm still shocked when people do those types of things for me. You have no idea how much that meant to me. I knew my day would probably be a little better right from the get-go because of that.

Hannah Unterschultz, who has been sending me goodnight texts and buying me tea and offering me everlasting support, love, hugs, and presence. I can't even say....I can't. I can't imagine what sort of mental state I would be in if you were not in my life right now. A dangerous one, probably lacking in frontal lobe action.

Rachel Schneider, I don't know how you manage to be so attuned to everyone's feelings, needs and emotions, do all your social homework for your less adept friends to scribble down in class beside you, add a kajillion billion cheer-up songs onto your stupid depressed friends iPods, balance your blood sugar and heroin intake, and look hot while doing it. I watched your little video on my iPod and I felt renewed after a bit of a stumble of an afternoon. I then went on to the blog homepage; and I honestly just started to bawl when I read your page.

It means so much to me that all of you are there for me, as well as for the other party involved, in such a difficult time. I have never been so unsure of myself.

I have never felt so loved.


(Well...yes, I have.)
(But that's kind of the point.)

do you remember
alpacas and vitamin water?

je deteste les poetes

...who am I kidding? I have nothing to say anyways.
I'm going to fail my math test, I'm going to lose all my social marks because I'm studying music history in social class, I'm still going to fail my music history test, I can't keep myself together for longer than 20 minutes, my toes ache, my back hurts, musical theatre makes me happy and it makes me feel bad,
and christmas is no fun like this
anyways

more pictures
i think so
to delay my shower, i don't like undressing, i need this protective layer of robe/dirt


do you remember going on a long long
long
long
long
long
'bikeride'

un de plus

Je ne peux pas je ne peux pas

for all those looking back a year

well, life sucked right then.

it sucks right here too.

You say that you're leaving

Well that comes as no surprise

Still I kinda like this feeling

Of being left behind 

Yea this ain't nothing new to me

Well it's just like going home

It's kinda like those sunsets

That leave you feeling so stoned 

Hey hey I guess it hasn't hit me yet

I fell through this crack

And I kinda lost my head

I stand transfixed

Before this street light

Watching the snow fall

On this cold December night 

I never thought this could happen

But somehow the feeling is gone

You got sick of the patterns

And I got lost in this song 

Hey hey I guess it hasn't hit me yet

I fell through this crack

And I kinda lost my head

I stand transfixed

Before this streetlight

Watching the snow fall

On this cold December night 

Hey hey I guess it hasn't hit me yet

I fell through this crack

And I kinda lost my head

I stand transfixed

Before this streetlight

Watching the snow fall

On this cold December night 

And out in the middle of Lake Ontario

The same snow is falling

On the deep silent water

The great dark wonder

Into the waves of my heart

Into the waves of my heart

Of my heart...

Pendant que j'attends pour mon the a rafraichir

1. Where are you, Christmas?
2. It hit me like a bus that all of these wonderful people I know now, I will probably (conceivably) not remember or think of in a year from now.
3. Also, I have no idea where or in what state of mind I will be in, in a year from now.
4. Not that anybody does.
5. Misery really does love company.
6. I want your music. (I shouldn't. Good Lord, what is wrong with me?)
7. But I don't actually.
8. Misery is seriously involved with company. They're seeing each other. Seriously.
9. I still want to chop off all my hair.
10. H....E....P....
11. What a strange combination of well-wishers and therapists.
12. Everyone knows but me.
13. Zat You, Santa Claus?

franchement, je suis nue, je suis vide

I don't remember where we started
Oh wait yes I do
"there's a beginning, and an end-
God, it's the root of everything."

more pictures I think

(and reverse)

Pomegranates and winter weddings.

alleluia

The lonely, or the broken Hallelujah?

I remember everything.
God, I remember- that's why everything inside me is breaking so much.

Ah non! Un coccinelle!

Sometimes, my life feels like a Blue Rodeo song.
But more probably, I just wish my life was a Blue Rodeo song, and my life really has not much, if anything, to do with a Blue Rodeo song.

It's nice to know that it's my bedtime, and I don't have to go to bed.
Erin Evoy; I know we never talk, but thanks for reading my blog and understanding me. Katie McLean told me you understood my last blog. I'm not sure if you understood how it applied to my life, but I hope it applied to your life also. It seems our blogs do that for one another. I think that's kind of funky. Like how we were good friends in PE 10. That was funky too. I appreciate it. And you.

-I want to live in a house full of teapots and books.
- Chris Hope, you have no family? And you're sick? Your life sucks, man.
- Hey, Rach/Allison? I miss you collectively, and I resent Germany for taking you away from me. Hannah and I are seeing way too much of each other. We're starting to understand each other, even with her frustration noises and made up words and my oral dyslexia. That's a bad thing, we think.
- I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO, LIFE. STOP BEING A BITCH.

-I hate birds.

"Like all the things that are left behind
Yeah, it hurts for awhile and then you find
Some days, it's just better to feel 
Dead inside
Until that day
You're born to love again."

HEIN

"Camelot is the most famous castle and court associated with the legendary King Arthur.  The stories locate it somewhere in Britain and sometimes associate it with real cities, though more usually its precise location is not revealed. Most scholars regard it as being entirely fictional, its geography being perfect for romance writers; Arthurian scholar Norris J. Lacey commented that "Camelot, located no where in particular, can be anywhere". 






NOT TIME TRAVEL

s'il vous plait, s'il vous plait

we were just kids
we ran like water

shelter
fate
forever
last train
home

Je ne peux pas prier, donc j'ecris

I want to cut off all my hair.

Growing pains;
I had this box, full of things. Things that didn't fit. Things that weren't forgotten, because they weren't ever there to forget. Things that were passed over, like a Jesus watch or a broken can opener or a dried, cranberry colored petal or a brisk fall evening where everything is calm. Into the box I dove headfirst, and I made things from all that paraphernalia, all those bits of costume jewellery and clay elephants and half-finished crossword puzzles.
And tea leaves.
I made first feet, and then a body to be carried upon them. I made it to sturdy, so I could lean into it and dissolve myself in its strength and capacity to endure. Bits of drywall and paper mache and leaf veins. Hedgehog quills and cassettes and sticky nail polish. Pencil crayons.
Cornflakes.
Slowly, I used up everything in my box. There was nothing left.
Now I fit inside my box, and you are standing sturdy outside.
I am a turtle, too small and too large simultaneously for my shell. And as comfortable as I am, I'm not moving and know that as long as I am in my box, I don't think I can. But my box needs to be filled, and if I leave, I will need to break down my statue, and leave it for another to build up. And they might do it all wrong.

I can't do this on my own. 
Give me something to sing about.
I'm bad at being alone.

C'est Novembre?

I'm bad at singing love songs,
I'm bad at ping pong

Things are happening to me. I definitely didn't sign any forms permitting this. I read all the fine print.
The worst part is, I'm happy and crazy and I'm being selfish. Am I ever selfish? I want to know. Do I come across as a selfish person?
I feel like I'm missing a crucial part of information, a fall-back option. To fall back upon.
My lower back is very warm right now.
I'm cold thinking about this.

Auf Wiedersein, ps.

Et je veux ton revanche

Hannah:
Out with the bad air, in with the good. You're only human. Probably the main reason you're so stressed out and (think) you're crazy and hormonal is because everybody keeps dumping loads and loads of...merde on your head. Like me, with my angsty teenage life and my drama queen ways of dealing with it. Like the drama teachers, who think that their production of a show that's not even a real show is the end-all be-all of this entire universe. (I'm not positive I've used that expression correctly.) Like the math teachers and the biology teachers, who have taken this week to practice social darwinism, and pick out the stragglers and less intelligent kids, point at them, laugh, and mark their test papers with small (in value, not in area), ugly numbers. Like the boys, who live in the United States.
But you know what, even through all of this, you still manage (in public) to keep a straight (albeit smiling) face, support your angst-ridden friends, suffer through long and unproductive musical theatre classes, and look damn fine while doing it. And, as Sally pointed out,. be the better-looking twin. (I love you, Enrique.)
Things have got to look up for us crazies. If they don't, we're going to quit high school, move to Peru, buy a goat, name her Ellis Maguire, and live off the land, free of tone-deaf persons, slow-walking persons, persons who don't consider the importance of hygiene even though we do, in fact, live in the 21st century where it is usually celebrated, and all other stressful things that are non-goat related.
Ryan, Rachel and Allison can visit on weekends and holidays, provided they bring us Chai tea and fuzzy slippers and their respective farm animals to keep Ellis Maguire company.

C'est quel heure?

Yeah, time doesn't actually exist in my life anymore.
It's something that is not only a rare commodity, it's completely extinct.
Like a dinosaur, or a dodo bird, or myself in an unemotional state.

I spend too long on things that don't matter, and not enough time on things that sort of matter, and no time at all with/on things/people that do matter. That sounds funny. I typed it like that on purpose. Because I have a sense of humor. I am full of such witticisms. I don't know what I'm typing anymore. Once more, it's time for me to go to bed, when I've hardly accomplished anything at all, other than choreography for stupid numbers in a doomed show and making people who love me doubt my affections even more.

My tongue is caught on silence because 
I'm so exhausted worn out and not confused confused not confused
It's not to do with you
Nothing to do with you
Except everything is to do with you, but I forget that
Because I'm so busy with everything else


I want to be a lovely picture in a magazine or teenage blog page again

Les actions, non les mots

I need to stop hurting my head.
I need to stop hurting my hips.
I need to stop being such a fucking math genius (apparently).
(Except not.)

Also, DNA, just go replicate yourself already, because Lyndsay doesn't care.

Also, I do care. I promise.
My mind is screwing with my body, possibly because of an overdose of vitamin C, possibly because...
Yeah, not going there.

Stress is actually screwing with me this time. So are baggy sweaters. I really want one of those comfy, ugly sweaters that actually are adorable. Why don't I have one of those? Can I find one, or do they have to be passed on like a tradition or a kiss?

Next, for my Olive, who has stumbled upon hard times; this reminded me of you.

All of us food groups will always be there to pull you out of the rain.

Le dindon

"Every single day, the same arrangement
I go out and fight the fight
Still I always feel, this strange estrangement-
Nothing here is real, nothing here is right
I've been making shows
Of trading blows
Just hoping no one knows

That I've been going through the motions..."

• I am thankful for duvet covers, I am thankful for crunching leaves. 
• I am thankful for holidays, I am thankful for panda bears.
• I am thankful for storybooks, I am thankful for drama teachers.
• I am thankful for the tetrad of sense and literacy, I am thankful for long hugs.
• I am thankful for long nights.
• I am thankful for sleep, I am thankful for being awake.
• I am thankful for endorphins, I am thankful for dolphins, which kind of sounds like endorphins.
• I am thankful for the thought, now, of tiny tiny dolphins swimming through my bloodstream, making me feel alive.
• I am thankful for boyfriends who want the best for me.
• I am thankful for friends who know the best for me.
• I am thankful for pumpkin pie, like so many of us are.
• I am thankful for dragons, and I am thankful for Adam Pascal.
• I am thankful for White-Out, erasers, crosswords, and the like.
• I am thankful for the elephant in the room who remains just out of sight.
• I wish I had X-Ray vision. So I could stop this foul energy, dirtying our connection.

Pas de voix

I have been absent from the blogosphere for a while, and I have time now, and little else, (i.e. motivation to do math homework, I told you so), I figured I would sit down and write about some things that are going through my mind.

one- I am, by nature, unreasonable, not in a screwy social-studies-esque political way, but just in a very human way. I am unfair, I am selfish, I expect way too much out of the both of us. But as much as I realize this, shouldn't you want to do all these things that I don't expect, but secretly want to, at the same time, like you used to, I think, but I can't remember. I need a teddy bear, tea, a sunset, something to do other than moan and groan. I am in a strange...

two- I am in a strange mood.

three- The world is closing in on me a little bit, I feel. It's nobody's fault but my own that I'm stressed. I know myself, or at least I should. I know when I am stressed that I become emotional and that nobody but you generally has to see it or put up with it.

four- You probably wonder why I am happy around some people, and not around you. No, I don't feel like I'm putting up  a face for them. I just feel like subconsciously, probably, I need to create around me and atmosphere of joviality and smiles lest I cut off all of my hair and color my toenails with a sharpie. I think. And maybe around you I can, subconsciously, let go a little bit, and that's why you get all the mixed/mangled sentences, the tired eyes, the grabby hands, the wet noses.

five- I wonder what life would be like with a wet nose. Probably, more humid.

six- You're strange, and I think you understand some things about brains that not a lot of other people can. But I think it might have simultaneously freaked me out and reassured me. I can't wait until Hannah comes over. I need my Hannah right now, I think.

seven- I actually wanted my Rachel and Allison too, and my Kaylie. But them gals are absent from my schedule tonight.

eight- I miss... smelling warmness. I guess in that way, I also miss tasting warmness. I think instead of warmness, the word I should use is warmth. But I'm kind of chilly right now.

nine- I wish I had a cat. I think I'm a cat person. I'm sorry. I also like movies that other people find boring. I like reading long, psychological and emotional books. I like to do things more than I like to hang out. I like waking up early and going for runs outside. I like going to plays. I need raw emotion. I like raw, emotive songs, and I love, I LOVE, musicals. It's not going to change. Maybe I need to figure that out. What is wrong with me?
I'm just not that bendy.

La biologie?

Hannah Unterschultz   x   Lyndsay Gundesen

                                 =

                       Mimi (who is promiscuous and has a very large body mass:foot ratio thanks to Hannah)

      x Carlos                                    x Josh
= Glinda                                             = Guinevere

Vous etes le seule que j'ai jamais voulais

Sometimes, I am not fun.

I try to make up for it with sunflower kisses.
It may not be enough.

Un chanson d'ukelele

Yes, I am alive. Very much so. However, so many things are going on now that blogging has slipped from a conscious, mind-relieving habit to a chore. There is always something I should be doing now, and I think we all forget about these things during our lovely and lustrous days of summer. That must be why it always comes to surprise me that I don't actually have time to sit and read a book or even go for a run with my father.
Yes, world, I am back. Or rather, you are back, to cause me immense dementia and lapses of judgment. Why doesn't judgment have another 'e'? It should have another 'e'. Everything is wrong there. Some things are wrong here. But overall I think they're okay. But I haven't had time to really think about the state of them (things), so maybe they're not okay. But does it really matter?

 Dancing feels good to my sore body, and musical theatre feels good to my fading social skills and excitement factor, my boyfriend feels good to my needs for being kept warm, and Belgian chocolates and chai tea feel good for about everything, a master remedy, if you will. Math makes my head hurt and Social exhausts me and Music History threatens to swamp me. I like Biology. I wish I wasn't so squeamish, or else I would maybe have the potential to get a real job in some sort of Biology field.
I wish I had a sense of adventure, or the willingness to release myself to others judgments (there's that word again) without feeling inadequate. I wish I was like Hannah.
I wish I could talk to my friends for long periods of time again. Rachel, I was going to see you today, and we could've rounded Allison up too, but swear to FSM after my rainy run this morning I don't think I can move anymore. Numbers and transformations and reflections weigh me down. And I don't have fat shoulders, unlike some. So it can't just be me.

I want a muffin.
You'll have to do.

I'm also rhyming a lot lately. What's up with that, anyways?
(There was a girl, named Alicellen
Who took far too much penicillin
She got sick,
Very quick
Now no more Alicellen.)

Let's burn some bras.

(Katie McLean, I love you. Don't quit on us, please. We need you, regardless of the craziness and unjustness of castings.)

Je suis un colibri perdu

I like that. 'Colibri'.

Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.
Colibricolibricolibricolibricolibri.

Evenings.

J'ai aucun mot pour cette fatigue, cette intrigue

I'm not sure how I feel about September.

When people hear words, or see pictures, or hear a certain song on the radio, as humans our minds make thousands and thousands of subconscious and conscious references, connections, associations and junctions. Our brains are smarter than we are. We process the information and unconsciously select the key information and/or memories that will identify to us the certain feeling, sentiment, or word we need to describe, analyze, and reference that enzymatic word, image, or sound.
To me, September is backwards. You see, I of course have no experience with anyone else's brain, but my brain associates everything to everything else so quickly and randomly and inexplicably, that half the time what I say or think of in association to a certain idea makes little to no sense. That is why people think I'm strange. But that doesn't matter. What I'm trying to make you understand is that a lot of different words (namely, pretty much all of them) actually bring out a very specific feeling, not in my mind but on my skin, as in a can actually reach out and touch the way that a sentence or proper noun will make me react and feel. I am a very kinesthetic person in regards to this, and I don't quite understand why. I think this is what makes me such a volatile, moody person as well...so many things influence my very physical condition that I am always changing and altering my mood subconsciously. Anyways.
All of the month names also make me feel certain ways.
When someone says January, I immediately shiver and my toes get cold flashes and I seem to close up into myself a little. I don't like January, it makes me feel lonely.
February makes me think of pink snow. I don't know how I feel about pink snow, except that my fingers buzz, but I am not as strongly opposed to February as January, I think.
March makes me think of green things, naturally, except because March is a) still freezing cold in Calgary, and b) the longest month to me (before April, and I have to wait until the very end for spring break), March makes me tired and it exhausts me to think about it.
April is such a nice word. Maybe it's because it's my birthday month. But even though it, too, is generally still bitterly cold, I guess some sort of bizarre hope is instilled in me for better times and better weathers. April makes me feel light and it makes my fingers feel long.

...and so on. I won't make you suffer through any more of that, except to note that September is backwards for me. I love the word September. In my mind it seems crisp and sunny and it tastes like lemon popsicles. It makes me excited, and it makes me feel forgiving and my body feels content.
But I hate September. It always comes too soon, it's always colder than it should be, and I always feel like I'm caught in some bus wheels or something and that I'm being dragged around, never quite catching up to whatever it is I'm supposed to catch.
My mind loathes September. My body loves it.

I'm going for my run now, even though it is cold and every little fiber of my being is telling me otherwise. I don't feel happy even though I had a waffle for breakfast and snuggled up in my bed to read my book afterwards. I feel cold, and tired, and lonely.

fly, fly, fly, away...

Si je peux encore chanter, vous allez rester la mienne

So I have been officially in paradise for a week now, and let me tell you it is tiring work. There's a certain amount of lounging on the beach and on the pool to do, and not only must you time it with the sun and the trade winds and the rain clouds and all that, you must also not spend too long in the sun- for fear of getting burnt- but just the right amount of time- to a get a fine fine tan for everyone at home to be jealous over.
Also, there is the matter of eating tropical fruit- you know, the pineapples, the mangoes, the papayas, the peaches- and each one must be eaten correctly and at its own personal best date for eating. To find the fruit's optimum best-eating date, it is a very delicate science- there's a certain balance between firmness and too hard, and softness and bruised, as well as observing the colors and shades and the proper peeling techniques. Also there's the matter of the acidity of pineapples, and trying to eat the pineapples without slopping all over your face, because the acid does sting and create rashes in large quantities.
Then, of course, there are all the other strenuous and time-consuming activities to consider; what to try and cram into your schedule, what to forget about,etc. It's a balancing act as well. There's so much to think about when activity planning; there's all the shopping, of course, and the beach lounging...but there's also kayaking down picturesque, foliage-laden rivers, hiking down to secret, sunny and turtle-filled beaches, locating secret lava pools of calm and clear water with the surf crashing all around you, plane rides that offer complete views of the island they call the 'garden' island, which is full of forests, greenery, waterfalls and white sand beaches.

 I am trying my darndest to achieve these things. It is a full time responsability.

I miss you more than I did yesterday and less than I will tomorrow.

La professeur McGonagall avait just dit "inception"

Boo- or, more accurately, Aloha. Now, I'm a little distracted whilst writing this entry because it is apparently a Harry Potter movie extravaganza in the United States on abc family channel. And I am OBVIOUSLY being a major part in such a wonderful and jubilant event.
There is little to be said about my current situation. I am on a beautiful tropical island

It is warm and lush and it's much easier to breathe here

I wake up and go for morning runs

I then eat breakfast on a patio

Then I spend time by a pool

And then we do fun tropical things

Like eating fruit

And getting sunburnt

I miss you

Les chansons finites

I may be losing my ability to come up with veritable French words, conjugate them and their complements indirects correctly, and utter sense-making sentences. Even in English, though, actually, so I'm more worried that the language center in my brain is acting up again, and not that I'm losing all of my education. But who knows, really, with me. Not me, that's for sure.

On a brighter, positive, and positively harmonic note, I am done my Grade 10 piano. For those of you who do not understand the utter relief and overall ecstatic gaiety that is now me and my non-piano-practicing state, I do not pity you. Pity instead those who have known and seen me in this state. It's not pretty. Hopefully by the time I see my dear departed boyfriend again, I will have regained a little composure (to be, of course, lost again at the sight of him after a whole month of his untimely absence.) Seriously, I also pity the people around when we see each other again. You may get knocked over by all our...friendly....handshaking.

But this does mean I get to go to Hawaii on Thursday. The whole piano-done-life's-purpose-complete thing. It grants me a ticket there, and hopefully not one back. Maybe I can trade my return ticket for a few one-way kayaks for my dear friends, one of whom almost died today. Who knew, cashews were in rice pudding. I figure the least I can do is buy her a kayak and a paddle in which to propel herself towards paradise on earth.

So far, this summer hasn't been that great. There's not been much to say for it, really, except the few good moments in between all the exhausting, boring, cold, and lonely bits. But I will say one thing for summer 2010; my friends have delivered me, we will say, without really knowing the exact meaning of this phrase but figuring it fits what I think it's supposed to mean. Meh. Here are some souvenirs of our recent exploits, where we terrorized the wildlife of what used to be a peaceful city park in our dear home city of Calgary.

And you know, a general suggestion to our dear friend Allison to upload the rest of them with haste.
It would make my day....

Ici sont des images

On me demande toujours pour une identite

Not knowing things make me feel uncomfortable. I want to know where I'm going. I want to know what to do. I want and love when people facilitate by telling me what to do. In a funny way. Not that I like being ordered around. I just like suggestions that fit into my desire for a simpler life full of everything I want. Or something. You know? Of course you don't. I don't, either.
When I look at descriptions of possible near futures, I want to be excited, prepared, and in planning mode. I don't want to feel worried, uncomfortable, and confused. I want to know where I should be, and whether I'm going to ever feel excited and prepared in that sort of a life. I want to know in advance whether I fit into this groove, or if people are pushing and snipping at my corners to try to make me fit, like a piece of sky in a puzzle of kittens in bows. I need to know that where I'm going, there will be a place for everything and everyone I want, and I will be happy and stable and not alone and tired. I want to know if I'm actually like those people, the ones with success stamped across their names and their genuine smiles.
Maybe it's because in my world, there is a clear view of a select few who know wholly and completely where they belong. They don't need a support group to hold their hands and swear up and down of their talent and prowess; they are confidant, they are unique and they are more than content. It would frustrate and depress me to not feel as they are feeling. I just don't know how to accomplish that feeling, and I need to know before I can take any more steps. Maybe that's why I'm so worried about finding myself belonging and thriving so early in my steps. All I know is that all this writing about it, and talking about it, doesn't seem to help at all. I still have this nagging doubt in my mind that will not go away, until someone gives me something else to focus on.

And more than that, I need people. I love the people around me. I don't know how to progress without them anymore. More importantly, they break me more and more because I know I shouldn't give up a potential dream/future for them, but I want to so bad.

And you.

 You can tell me not to think, and you can tell me not to worry, and you can tell me not to cry and even brush and kiss those stains away. But things are coming up fast, things that neither of us can deal with properly, when I am too emotional and you too stubborn and trusting and both of us unwilling to let go of ideas and each other. The truth is is that we have sewn you into me so tightly that nothing we do can separate you without tearing into me. I know you hate it when I'm angsty. I do too. But I'm just so gosh darn good at it, don't you think?
 

Je suis fini, d'accord?

Le dieu des amis

God, I love my friends. I had a fanflanflippintastic evening/night/morning with some very wonderful people. All I can conclude is that I should be a nicer person, lest karma bites my ankles and takes these wonderful people away from me. And now

"When I say I love you, it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity what and who you are."

On va nommer nos enfants les noms qui finissent avec 'o'

"We forget that we were placed on this earth to be used by God!"

- Jesus
aka
Enrico!

Things we forget:

• That reading in the sun with a cup of tea is a good recipe for peace and contentedness.
• "Contentness" isn't a word, but "ContentEDness" is.
• Re-reading what we've written before publicizing or sending/sharing isn't a bad idea.
• Exercise is good for more than just your body.
• What Rachel said, about the way friends increase your life expectancy by 50 percent or something. That does seem a little high, to me, but there you have it. It's a good thing some people like me. Whether or not it's for my charm, optimism, and highly complimentary personality is another story.
• How much missing people who you are close with literally impacts the length of your days. There must be a study, somewhere, that proves that when you miss someone so much it's sore that hours are actually added on to your day, proving once and for all that misery does not love company, it loves long, lonely days spent wearing stolen clothes and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns until you get so paranoid when walking around at night you arm yourself with twigs found on the ground that you innocently wave at suspicious-looking passerby.
• Fruit is the nectar of life.
• Boyfriends are the fruit of life.
• Boyfriends who are gone away are the rotten fruits of life.
• Hannah and Rachel are the next best thing. Jam.

La carte des maraudeurs

...called it

Je suis content de t'annoncer...

That I am not suffering any post-partum depression.

This is largely due to the fact that a lot of illegally downloaded music and Chai tea lattes are much at my disposal. Also, I've been playing far too much piano- I'm actually sustaining bodily damage. I better get a damn good mark on my exam, I'm telling you. I don't know if it's because I'm simple and my brain does not work multi-functionally or what, but I find it very hard to write at all with music playing- my brain is trying to focus on lyrics and words simultaneously and the ending result is, I fear, imploding...So I therefore do apologize if any of these sentences/words make no sense whatsoever.


On Getting Lost in Bowness
Getting lost is alright when you fully admit and accept to the presence/reality of your lostness. Rachel and I discovered that when we accepted the verity of our situation (i.e. that we were on the opposite side of the city than where we were aiming to be) the city and our existences seemed quite content to let us be, wandering all the way up and down Bowness Road or what have you in peaceful companionship.
I enjoy peaceful companionship. Rachel is one of those people who are so genuine and wonderful and present that any time can be Rachel time. I mean this in the way that sometimes you are not in the mood to see some people- whether you are certain you will have nothing to talk about or your state of mind will surely conflict with a certain individual. But this is never the case with Rachel. It is much as comfortable to be chatting about life, the depth of it all, and all its wily turns and twists, as it is to be simply flitting in its' shallows with Rachel. Silence is never awkward, and there is no need to make clumsy and intelligible comments about the weather or the length of the bus ride, or the ineptitude of our planning skills. Everything is easy, and simple, and yet her responses and conversation are some of the best I've ever known. For that, I thank her.

Off to snuggle into the depths of my boyfriend's stolen clothing now.

Une goutte d'eau

just a drop in the ocean
a change in the weather
i was praying that you and me might end up together
it's like wishing for rain as i stand in the desert
but i'm holding you closer than most
'cause you are my heaven

...I'm preserving your smell. Saving you for when I'm going absolutely insane, instead of just mildly crazy and desperate. It's all about moderation, truly.
Also to be noted,


ASDASDJKGAHASYFGKASGKAYSDGYUSASDGAKUYSGDKAYDGAKDG.

Toutes les lumieres pleuvent

So I may be stuck in Manitoba.
Probably not.
But to to unforeseeable circumstances, our relic of a camper van won't start.
My mother assures me we HAVE to be home for tomorrow, because they have to work.

If we are not home tomorrow, my emotional state goes kaput like a lightbulb crushed under the foot of a nocturnal anger management patient.

Patience.

Je ne fais pas la tristesse

Off to Kenton, Manitoba, with a raging sunburn, a brand-new playlist full of Glee, Sarah McLachlan, Train, and Jack Johnson, a full bag and a dread of August the 4th.

I live for nights spent in tall grasses, missing sunsets for aloe rubs, and being freezing but not being able to tell because of the heat emanating from my sunburns. I'm going to to have an angst attack when you're gone, I already know.