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
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
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.
I try to make up for it with sunflower kisses.
It may not be enough.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
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.)
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?
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.)
Sunday, September 05, 2010
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...
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...
Thursday, August 26, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
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....
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....
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
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?
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?
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