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.