Usually I make it a rule not to have crushes on boys that have already boned any of my friends. (I think that in Vancouver it's a particularily wise rule to have). However (and much to my dismay), I have found an exception. Not that anything could possibly ever happen, but I am in full-on daydream mode. It's sick. It's just because he's tall, and knows my name.
Peeps the cat is a total shithead.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Friday, June 09, 2006
Basically, this is for Kate
It's the wee sma's. I am bagged. I worked until 2 last night, slept four-ish hours and got up to work at 7 this morning. I had a little nap this afternoon, ate some chicken, got gingerale for sick carman, (who I think snarled at my mother today) and went to a Ladyhawk show. It was good show. I think that Ladyhawk make good music, Book of Lists opened and they were also good. I like that I have gotten over a bit of my pride, and can call Laura a friend, even though she stole Annika away from me. At the show I made a few discoveries. I met a guy named stuntman, whose real name is greg. I stuffed my ears with toilet paper. I hung out back stage, which wasn't special at all, anyonw could go back there. I boy asked for my number, and I gave him my now defunct digits. I feel a little guilty about that, because I think I serve him tofu sometimes. But he was a random, and I don't know about the randoms. Iniitally, I didn't mean to give him the wrong number, it just came out first. I forgot his name. That whole thing is weird anyway, I was just standing there watching some bands play, and talking to people. All of the sudden this dude starts asking me questions, and for my number...with his cell all prepped. Is this normal? I don't know. Typically, dudes leave me alone. I guess I can no longer complain about boys. I also found out that this guy from around town, is cousins with Shelley Peters from Capernwray days. Which is weird. I think about her sometimes, we had fun. He's tall and a drummer and crush worthy. He could have asked fo rmy number, but he didn't. Besides, he already got down with one of my girls, so that takes care of that. Shelley is married...or course.
Tomorrow I meet my mother for lunch. She is on her way to the Sunshine State to look after a family of Iwawkis as they prepare for days in the hospital. Lady Codelia has to have surgery on her little head. Poor Darling. I had a little shirt made for her at the Rgional Assembly of Text, which is a sweet little store that you would really like. Brandy's taste is similar to yours. You should be friends. Anyway, the shirt has birds. I hope she likes it.
Goodnight, and I love you.
Tomorrow I meet my mother for lunch. She is on her way to the Sunshine State to look after a family of Iwawkis as they prepare for days in the hospital. Lady Codelia has to have surgery on her little head. Poor Darling. I had a little shirt made for her at the Rgional Assembly of Text, which is a sweet little store that you would really like. Brandy's taste is similar to yours. You should be friends. Anyway, the shirt has birds. I hope she likes it.
Goodnight, and I love you.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
old as the hills
I have just been contacted concerning my ten year high school reunion. I am old.
I don't want to go. The whole concept is a little whack, especially if you were a loner-type. I still speak to the two friends I had in high school.
Sometimes I am sick of my job.
Sometimes the stigma attached to being a server at The Foundation is a little much to handle. Becasue I work there, people expect me to be cool and snobby and scene, so they treat me as such. Girls especially. I work there to pay my rent, not to be seen by hipsters. I feel like I am being judged, and watched so closely. That, compounded by comments customers have made to me about my appearance, makes getting dressed to go to work an anxiety-filled and stressful experience. I feel like I want to print an article in the hipster magazines and explain to the masses how difficult it really is to serve 13 tables all on your own. That's a lot of drinks. That's about 50-60 people to serve all at one time. Not to mention that we're expected to bus and bill and seat everyone.
Don't get me wrong, I am happy to be there, and am lucky to have a job. It's not even The Job, but the attitude that seems to just waft up the seats. Of course my response to that is going to be less than warm. I try to like everyone, I try to work as hard as I can, and be as pleasant as possible. That's how my mother raised me.
I think the part that gets my goat is that, sometimes the masses are right. I have seen some pretty bad srevice, I have given some pretty bad service. (I have a strict policy not to encourage grownups who insist on acting like babies.) I do know that some people put out that too cool to work for you vibe. And it bothers me. But I don't want to spend my hours comparing myself to everyone else. It's a waste of time.
So I will try to be cheerful.
I don't want to go. The whole concept is a little whack, especially if you were a loner-type. I still speak to the two friends I had in high school.
Sometimes I am sick of my job.
Sometimes the stigma attached to being a server at The Foundation is a little much to handle. Becasue I work there, people expect me to be cool and snobby and scene, so they treat me as such. Girls especially. I work there to pay my rent, not to be seen by hipsters. I feel like I am being judged, and watched so closely. That, compounded by comments customers have made to me about my appearance, makes getting dressed to go to work an anxiety-filled and stressful experience. I feel like I want to print an article in the hipster magazines and explain to the masses how difficult it really is to serve 13 tables all on your own. That's a lot of drinks. That's about 50-60 people to serve all at one time. Not to mention that we're expected to bus and bill and seat everyone.
Don't get me wrong, I am happy to be there, and am lucky to have a job. It's not even The Job, but the attitude that seems to just waft up the seats. Of course my response to that is going to be less than warm. I try to like everyone, I try to work as hard as I can, and be as pleasant as possible. That's how my mother raised me.
I think the part that gets my goat is that, sometimes the masses are right. I have seen some pretty bad srevice, I have given some pretty bad service. (I have a strict policy not to encourage grownups who insist on acting like babies.) I do know that some people put out that too cool to work for you vibe. And it bothers me. But I don't want to spend my hours comparing myself to everyone else. It's a waste of time.
So I will try to be cheerful.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
texada
You know, I am one lucky girl. I hope that whenever I feel down in the dumps and unloved, that I remember today.
I am lucky beacuse I have friends who can fly single engine airplanes, who will fly me over the west coast. To see islands and inlets and beaches and my parents house from 2000 feet. I have friends who will snuggle with me in four man tent on some remote island, and not once mention my snoring. I have friends who are totally cool that I only want to drink two beers while they get wasted. I have friends who ask me to tell them all the ghost stories I know. I am lucky. I have friends who tell me they miss me, and get worried about me while I am in a single engine airplane over the sea. (who don't mind if i steal neautral milk hotel lyrics) I have friends who are glad to see me after months of away-ness to hot chicks in hot lands. I have friends. I do.
I have friends who read my late night ramblings, who love me anyway,
I am lucky.
I also have a kitten who purrs.
I am lucky beacuse I have friends who can fly single engine airplanes, who will fly me over the west coast. To see islands and inlets and beaches and my parents house from 2000 feet. I have friends who will snuggle with me in four man tent on some remote island, and not once mention my snoring. I have friends who are totally cool that I only want to drink two beers while they get wasted. I have friends who ask me to tell them all the ghost stories I know. I am lucky. I have friends who tell me they miss me, and get worried about me while I am in a single engine airplane over the sea. (who don't mind if i steal neautral milk hotel lyrics) I have friends who are glad to see me after months of away-ness to hot chicks in hot lands. I have friends. I do.
I have friends who read my late night ramblings, who love me anyway,
I am lucky.
I also have a kitten who purrs.
Monday, May 29, 2006
pot brownies
I don't think I need to introduce this little guy. Not that I can anyway, it doesn't have a name. So far she answers to anything from Puddin' Puff to Fart Pants. Who knows really?
My roomate came home from work on Friday morning, high as a kite. The guy has been clean for twelve years and a consistant member of AA. But the Purolator guy gave him a pot brownie in a bread garden bag. My roomate only took a few bites, didn't like how it tasted and left it. I guess the receptionist told him to be careful because the Purolator guy had left a pot brownie for some one else before. He told his boss he had to go for a walk, and came right home. He puked when he got home. No, he paced, he peaked, and then he puked. It was a strange mixture of uproariously funny, and kind of devastating. It was a lot funnier later in the day than it was in the morning. He had a pretty bad trip so i think that helps. We decided to make the best of it, so we bought him loads of snacks and rented yellow submarine. We all spent the afternoon on the couch making fun of my stoner roomate.
I'm pretty sure he's gonna punch the Purolator guy tomorrow. I hope he does.
Last night I had a harrowing and horrible dream involving me coughing and puking up worms and worms and worms. When I told me friend Justine about it, she suddenly got concerned and told me to see the doctor, because my subconscience is telling me something it knows about my body...or whatever. So I went looking on the internet, and it tells me that I'm going to get sick, or that i have a negative attitude about the male sex organ. But then I told my dream to another friend, and she was all like, dreams say more about your past than your future. Which takes care of the getting sick part. And as far as the male sex organ thing goes, perhaps that's just me hanging out with lesbians.
Regardless, I never want to have the dream again. You have no idea how dreadful a turquoise earthworm can be when it stuck in your throat, and you just can't cough it up.
At the same time, perhaps justine is right about that doctor business.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
a list
-kittens.
-french toast.
-embarking.
-tea swamp park.
-digital camera.
-raleigh folder.
-lindsay lohan.
-jesse booi.
-pink nail polish.
-bandana girl.
-garbanzo bean around the block.
-stanley park.
-a room with a view.
-fairy tale, a true story.
-fin+aja.
-tiny tea cups.
-parkies.
These are things that I like righ tnow for various reasons.
-french toast.
-embarking.
-tea swamp park.
-digital camera.
-raleigh folder.
-lindsay lohan.
-jesse booi.
-pink nail polish.
-bandana girl.
-garbanzo bean around the block.
-stanley park.
-a room with a view.
-fairy tale, a true story.
-fin+aja.
-tiny tea cups.
-parkies.
These are things that I like righ tnow for various reasons.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Monday, May 08, 2006
I am eating humble pie for that
Maybe I could use this whole pregant thing to my advantage. Like, now I can eat all I want and claim I'm eating for two. Or perhaps I can get a seat at the front of the bus anytime I want.
I was asked a fourth time on saturday. It's devastating. Seriously. However, I have decided not to emo-blog. It's just there. I just want to know the thought proccess that happened in their brains before they uttered the words. I always thought it was kind of an inappropriate question. It's kind of like asking a man with receeding hairline if he has cancer and is in chemo. Except it's worse because girls have a huge amount of body image issues.
I thought I was getting better. Everyone deserves a humbling sometimes, but four times is a litte excessive.
I just read Everything is Illuminated. I liked it. I'm going to lend it to Reid.
I have three days off this week. I am going to try to work my magic so i can get out of town.
The best part of yesterday?
-Amanda showed up at work for like a second. I almost cried. I didn't expect to see her. She's supposed to be in Halifax...right? Seeing her made me want to move to the east coast. And live in Cape Cod or wherever. Or Prince Edward Island. Just like Anne.
-Jesse Booi told me we was glad I was there, and he meant it. Then he told me that I looked nice, and he meant it. I could have kissed him.
A girl from highschool tracked me down on myspace. I don't think we were friends. Part of me hated her. Part of me liked her. The 14 year old me is flabbergasted and flattered that she like, looked me up. She was popular, I was...invisible. The 27 year old me has always known that I am not invisible and is even a bit memorable. It's a good natured thing.
I was asked a fourth time on saturday. It's devastating. Seriously. However, I have decided not to emo-blog. It's just there. I just want to know the thought proccess that happened in their brains before they uttered the words. I always thought it was kind of an inappropriate question. It's kind of like asking a man with receeding hairline if he has cancer and is in chemo. Except it's worse because girls have a huge amount of body image issues.
I thought I was getting better. Everyone deserves a humbling sometimes, but four times is a litte excessive.
I just read Everything is Illuminated. I liked it. I'm going to lend it to Reid.
I have three days off this week. I am going to try to work my magic so i can get out of town.
The best part of yesterday?
-Amanda showed up at work for like a second. I almost cried. I didn't expect to see her. She's supposed to be in Halifax...right? Seeing her made me want to move to the east coast. And live in Cape Cod or wherever. Or Prince Edward Island. Just like Anne.
-Jesse Booi told me we was glad I was there, and he meant it. Then he told me that I looked nice, and he meant it. I could have kissed him.
A girl from highschool tracked me down on myspace. I don't think we were friends. Part of me hated her. Part of me liked her. The 14 year old me is flabbergasted and flattered that she like, looked me up. She was popular, I was...invisible. The 27 year old me has always known that I am not invisible and is even a bit memorable. It's a good natured thing.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
mascarra
The woman next door with the hilarious dog is playing piano. The strains of songs I can't recognize are filtering through the walls, and it all seems familiar to me.
Last night I hung out at a classy restaurant with people who have money.
I can't really comprehend spending hundreds of dollars for a pair of sunglasses. Or 14 dollars for a glass of wine.
I felt sort of uncomfortable in my grubby sneakers and homemade haircut.
It was fun. We laughed a lot. It felt like a less-fabulous Sex in the City.
I took an extreme dip into hipster-hood on thursday night. It's true. I found myspef working the door at an Art School after-party. A cute boy came to speak to me. It inflated my ego a little, which needed a little help that day. Earlier a customer had asked me when my due date was. I went to the bathroom to cry. This has been happening a lot. Too much. Weird. But you know, I came home, had a nap. Changed my shirt, and put on some mascarra....and felt fine.
I sometimes think that mascarra is miracle-worker.
Last night I hung out at a classy restaurant with people who have money.
I can't really comprehend spending hundreds of dollars for a pair of sunglasses. Or 14 dollars for a glass of wine.
I felt sort of uncomfortable in my grubby sneakers and homemade haircut.
It was fun. We laughed a lot. It felt like a less-fabulous Sex in the City.
I took an extreme dip into hipster-hood on thursday night. It's true. I found myspef working the door at an Art School after-party. A cute boy came to speak to me. It inflated my ego a little, which needed a little help that day. Earlier a customer had asked me when my due date was. I went to the bathroom to cry. This has been happening a lot. Too much. Weird. But you know, I came home, had a nap. Changed my shirt, and put on some mascarra....and felt fine.
I sometimes think that mascarra is miracle-worker.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
summer.
I forgot about that sound.
That sound of wind filling your ears.
I forgot the chill blowing through your shirts.
I forgot how fast you can go.
Downhill.
I also think that peach cider is a perfect summer alternative to beer.
I love Fin Oliver Stewart.
Babies are the perfect summer alternative to men.
That sound of wind filling your ears.
I forgot the chill blowing through your shirts.
I forgot how fast you can go.
Downhill.
I also think that peach cider is a perfect summer alternative to beer.
I love Fin Oliver Stewart.
Babies are the perfect summer alternative to men.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
This blog was started about a lifetime ago.
The old entries are embarrassing. However, they are honest and true for that time. That horrible post-break-up time. I took a break. A 2 1/2 year break.
This time around, it's going to be fun.
Why? Because it's spring and I've got a rad new brown bicycle, and I'm going to bomb around town with wind in my hair.
It's going to be the equivalent of those Oprah shows where she stops talking heavy, and starts giving things away. Like cars and make-up and bed sheets.
No more of this lonliness and darkness. This is only good stuff.
The old entries are embarrassing. However, they are honest and true for that time. That horrible post-break-up time. I took a break. A 2 1/2 year break.
This time around, it's going to be fun.
Why? Because it's spring and I've got a rad new brown bicycle, and I'm going to bomb around town with wind in my hair.
It's going to be the equivalent of those Oprah shows where she stops talking heavy, and starts giving things away. Like cars and make-up and bed sheets.
No more of this lonliness and darkness. This is only good stuff.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Monday, September 22, 2003
Yesterday I sat down and spoke with the fellow that I fancy. I need to come to grips with the fact that I am a shy girl. That in order to make friends, one must actually speak and smile and make eye contact. I am so tired of living in this shell. Anyway, he is really dreamy with his squinty eyes and dimples. He should ask me to the movies.
I have been thinking a lot about Tim. I hate that I am still thinking about him so much. Sometimes I forget about the whole business, and then it hits me like a wave. I don't know where to file this sort of anger and sadness. I want him to hurt. Every time I talk about it, I have to act like I'm all okay and stuff. But I'm not. It hurts a lot. Personal rejection is hard to take, and it makes you feel like shit. You wonder if it was because of the space between your teeth, or the length of your hair, or the cut of your shirt. You wonder if things would have been different if you flirted with him more.
This is all sounding so ridiculous.
I want to be alone....but not alone.
I have been thinking a lot about Tim. I hate that I am still thinking about him so much. Sometimes I forget about the whole business, and then it hits me like a wave. I don't know where to file this sort of anger and sadness. I want him to hurt. Every time I talk about it, I have to act like I'm all okay and stuff. But I'm not. It hurts a lot. Personal rejection is hard to take, and it makes you feel like shit. You wonder if it was because of the space between your teeth, or the length of your hair, or the cut of your shirt. You wonder if things would have been different if you flirted with him more.
This is all sounding so ridiculous.
I want to be alone....but not alone.
Sunday, September 21, 2003
Saturday, September 20, 2003
I think that I am ridiculous and proud.
I think I am exactly who I swore I would never be.
I think I am a lot of things I hate.
I am jealous and mean. I am petty and self-ish. I lie and cheat and steal. I think awful thoughts about people I love. I ignore my friends. I ignore God.
I don't want to be all down on myself but last night this all seemed to come to light as I was grumbling in my head about annika. Annika, my closest friend and roommate. Annika is a lovely girl. Yet, I, in pig-headishness created reasons to be hurt by her.
Why can´t I just love? Why am I being sostubborn these days? Why am I creating drama where there isn´t any? What happened to me to make me so hard-hearted? I hate that! I want to be soft. I want to refreshing and nice. I want to be open. I don't want to carry around this suspiciousness. I don't want to be jealous. I don't want to just sit there.
This whole thing is so frustrating.
I wish I could spew out verses. I wish there was something I could do to feel better.
Sheesh, it's amazing that I even have friends.
On the other hand, I came up with a brilliant idea for a book. I am going to attempt it today. Maybe that's what I need. A creative outlet
I totally have a rebound crush on a boy. I don't know his name, but I see him everyday. He seems just lovely. Crushes are ridiculous. Feels too much like high school.
I think I am exactly who I swore I would never be.
I think I am a lot of things I hate.
I am jealous and mean. I am petty and self-ish. I lie and cheat and steal. I think awful thoughts about people I love. I ignore my friends. I ignore God.
I don't want to be all down on myself but last night this all seemed to come to light as I was grumbling in my head about annika. Annika, my closest friend and roommate. Annika is a lovely girl. Yet, I, in pig-headishness created reasons to be hurt by her.
Why can´t I just love? Why am I being sostubborn these days? Why am I creating drama where there isn´t any? What happened to me to make me so hard-hearted? I hate that! I want to be soft. I want to refreshing and nice. I want to be open. I don't want to carry around this suspiciousness. I don't want to be jealous. I don't want to just sit there.
This whole thing is so frustrating.
I wish I could spew out verses. I wish there was something I could do to feel better.
Sheesh, it's amazing that I even have friends.
On the other hand, I came up with a brilliant idea for a book. I am going to attempt it today. Maybe that's what I need. A creative outlet
I totally have a rebound crush on a boy. I don't know his name, but I see him everyday. He seems just lovely. Crushes are ridiculous. Feels too much like high school.
Friday, September 19, 2003
I don't know if it's a gift.
I don't want to assume things.
It seems that I have an ability to see certain people. I recognize things in them that I see in myself. I don't know what it is that I get. I thought maybe it was brokenness or sadness or an old spirit. I thought maybe it was the race that knows Joseph (Anne) or some kind of kindred spiritedness. But that doesn't work somehow. All people that I feel this connection with should have the connection with each other. While that works sometimes, most of the time it's a complete miss.
Take my new friend Ryan. It makes no sense that I should be his friend. In fact, when I met him I thought he would be annoying. By the second time I saw him, I had that point of recognition. Like he fits somehow into the puzzle of my heart. Annika has that same place in my heart, yet I don't think she really likes him that much. Why don't they connect with each other if I connect so well with both?
I feel like I have been given a new kid brother. Hanging out with Ryan feels like Jonathan (except that Ryan has never hit me in the head with a baseball bat). Maybe it's a bit of an ego thing for me. Maybe it's just really nice to have a boy around who will go for milkshakes and give dirty looks to sales ladies for me. Maybe I know that girls think he's cute. Maybe I just really like the attention. I don't know. I don't want to analyze this one. I get him. I don't feel like I have to be cool...or even clean around him. If this is just a phase, then so be it. I like having friends. I wish I had more of them.
speaking of friends...
I really like Jo. Sure, she's my boss and all, but I have fun with her. Again, it's that mysterious thing that I see her. That twinkle of recognition that draws me to certain people. I drank too much beer with her last night. I hope that we get to be good friends.
Funny how God knows these things. How we want to fit somewhere. And here I am. There is blessing in a broken heart. There is joy buried beneath. There is no formula. I am just learning that. So I thank God for these little stumblings across people..New and old. I am richly blessed, and I didn't ask for it. He just knows.
Well, it's mom day...I'm going back to sleep so that I not crankypants for her. I like my mom.
I don't want to assume things.
It seems that I have an ability to see certain people. I recognize things in them that I see in myself. I don't know what it is that I get. I thought maybe it was brokenness or sadness or an old spirit. I thought maybe it was the race that knows Joseph (Anne) or some kind of kindred spiritedness. But that doesn't work somehow. All people that I feel this connection with should have the connection with each other. While that works sometimes, most of the time it's a complete miss.
Take my new friend Ryan. It makes no sense that I should be his friend. In fact, when I met him I thought he would be annoying. By the second time I saw him, I had that point of recognition. Like he fits somehow into the puzzle of my heart. Annika has that same place in my heart, yet I don't think she really likes him that much. Why don't they connect with each other if I connect so well with both?
I feel like I have been given a new kid brother. Hanging out with Ryan feels like Jonathan (except that Ryan has never hit me in the head with a baseball bat). Maybe it's a bit of an ego thing for me. Maybe it's just really nice to have a boy around who will go for milkshakes and give dirty looks to sales ladies for me. Maybe I know that girls think he's cute. Maybe I just really like the attention. I don't know. I don't want to analyze this one. I get him. I don't feel like I have to be cool...or even clean around him. If this is just a phase, then so be it. I like having friends. I wish I had more of them.
speaking of friends...
I really like Jo. Sure, she's my boss and all, but I have fun with her. Again, it's that mysterious thing that I see her. That twinkle of recognition that draws me to certain people. I drank too much beer with her last night. I hope that we get to be good friends.
Funny how God knows these things. How we want to fit somewhere. And here I am. There is blessing in a broken heart. There is joy buried beneath. There is no formula. I am just learning that. So I thank God for these little stumblings across people..New and old. I am richly blessed, and I didn't ask for it. He just knows.
Well, it's mom day...I'm going back to sleep so that I not crankypants for her. I like my mom.
Friday, September 12, 2003
It has certainly been a while since I have blogged. I have a strong dislike for words like "blog" and "google" as verbs. Yet, here I am, hypocritical-wendy using such disdainful words. And I wonder if "disdainful" is even a real word.
Johnny Cash died today. Johnny Cash is dead. It seems like he was the last of the really good guys. It wasn't a surprise. I suppose that there isn't much point of living if your soulmate is gone. I will miss Johnny Cash. I always secretly hoped that I would meet him one day, and we would drink beer together, and perhaps talk...Or perhaps not talk. I wish it was okay and normal to sit and not talk. Sometimes I don't want to talk. Sometimes, I don't want to be alone, and yet I don't want to fill that precious space with words. Does that make sense?
I am reading a book about a guy who says that someone is always borrowing his head. It just hits too close to home. I am contemplating not reading this book anymore. I swear this guy is just writing about me. Except I only feel that fucked up, where as this guy actually is fucked up. I am afraid to read the whole book. I mean, what if it is a really depressing book? It happened to me in "The Grapes of Wrath". I expected and hoped that it would get better, but it never did. I don't think I have completely recovered, it still pisses me off. I'll probably keep reading this book however, I have that disease you know, where you just can't put your book down. That happened last week with "Harry Potter". Get this, I actually cried while reading a Harry Potter book. Of course that had nothing to do with my freshly broken heart, or my menstrual cycle, or the fact that I was sick as a dog. I can't wait for the next Harry Potter book!
I live too much in children's literature. Kid's books are so where it's at.
Jonathan called today. My little brother is growing up. It's so sweet that we are friends now. It's so sweet that he calls me just to tell me that he loves me. Not a lot of brothers do that. He never once pulled out an "I told you so" when we talked about Tim. He was actually concerned about my heart, even though he was right the whole time. It pisses me off that he was right. Jonathan also asked me tough questions like where I'm going to church, and how my "walk" is going, and how am I getting fed. He's a good brother.
My walk isn't exactly what your average Christian would consider stellar. But then, the thought of being your average Christian gives me the willies. The truth is that I have been broken in a few places. The truth is that I really dislike church. I went to church on Sunday after a few months away from attending. I didn't like it. I don't know what to do. I know that I need that kind of environment. The truth is that I would rather be discipled. Maybe then, I could stand church. I would rather just sit and absorb. I don't want to feel forced into clapping my hands. I don't want to turn and greet my neighbors. I don't want my problems to be solved in a three point sermon, or in an accrostic. I am not alone in feeling like this. Like an alien in church...Like an alien in life. Is it me that needs to change? Am I bitter? What is my attitude? I just think that there has got to be another way. I think that perhaps the church's current concept of church may not be THE camp. How do we bust out of the mind frame that we have it figured out? That MY way of worshipping, or studying, is the right and only way..And you really ought to check it out.
I dunno, maybe I'm talking out of my ass...But those creepy Alpha signs everywhere make me sick to my stomach.
Something has got to change....And that something is probably me. It's just so much easier to blame someone else for the the condition of my heart.
This entry is getting to be ridiculously long and boring. I intend to write here more often....Not that anyone knows about this site....Or cares.
p.s. The Weakerthans. There are no words. They are good. Very good.
Johnny Cash died today. Johnny Cash is dead. It seems like he was the last of the really good guys. It wasn't a surprise. I suppose that there isn't much point of living if your soulmate is gone. I will miss Johnny Cash. I always secretly hoped that I would meet him one day, and we would drink beer together, and perhaps talk...Or perhaps not talk. I wish it was okay and normal to sit and not talk. Sometimes I don't want to talk. Sometimes, I don't want to be alone, and yet I don't want to fill that precious space with words. Does that make sense?
I am reading a book about a guy who says that someone is always borrowing his head. It just hits too close to home. I am contemplating not reading this book anymore. I swear this guy is just writing about me. Except I only feel that fucked up, where as this guy actually is fucked up. I am afraid to read the whole book. I mean, what if it is a really depressing book? It happened to me in "The Grapes of Wrath". I expected and hoped that it would get better, but it never did. I don't think I have completely recovered, it still pisses me off. I'll probably keep reading this book however, I have that disease you know, where you just can't put your book down. That happened last week with "Harry Potter". Get this, I actually cried while reading a Harry Potter book. Of course that had nothing to do with my freshly broken heart, or my menstrual cycle, or the fact that I was sick as a dog. I can't wait for the next Harry Potter book!
I live too much in children's literature. Kid's books are so where it's at.
Jonathan called today. My little brother is growing up. It's so sweet that we are friends now. It's so sweet that he calls me just to tell me that he loves me. Not a lot of brothers do that. He never once pulled out an "I told you so" when we talked about Tim. He was actually concerned about my heart, even though he was right the whole time. It pisses me off that he was right. Jonathan also asked me tough questions like where I'm going to church, and how my "walk" is going, and how am I getting fed. He's a good brother.
My walk isn't exactly what your average Christian would consider stellar. But then, the thought of being your average Christian gives me the willies. The truth is that I have been broken in a few places. The truth is that I really dislike church. I went to church on Sunday after a few months away from attending. I didn't like it. I don't know what to do. I know that I need that kind of environment. The truth is that I would rather be discipled. Maybe then, I could stand church. I would rather just sit and absorb. I don't want to feel forced into clapping my hands. I don't want to turn and greet my neighbors. I don't want my problems to be solved in a three point sermon, or in an accrostic. I am not alone in feeling like this. Like an alien in church...Like an alien in life. Is it me that needs to change? Am I bitter? What is my attitude? I just think that there has got to be another way. I think that perhaps the church's current concept of church may not be THE camp. How do we bust out of the mind frame that we have it figured out? That MY way of worshipping, or studying, is the right and only way..And you really ought to check it out.
I dunno, maybe I'm talking out of my ass...But those creepy Alpha signs everywhere make me sick to my stomach.
Something has got to change....And that something is probably me. It's just so much easier to blame someone else for the the condition of my heart.
This entry is getting to be ridiculously long and boring. I intend to write here more often....Not that anyone knows about this site....Or cares.
p.s. The Weakerthans. There are no words. They are good. Very good.
Saturday, May 31, 2003
There is a party going on upstairs. It is noisy, and I am wide awake. Perhaps I should go and make some friends. Naw, I'll just stay here and sit in front of the computer. It kinda sounds like a fun party. I don't like parties. Everytime I attend a party, I leave wondering if i have some kind of social anxiety disorder. I think that what it comes down to is that people frighten me. No seriously, I think that I am afraid of social situations. I hate having to be witty or pretty on command.
I think that i was hit on tonight at the show. I think, but then, these kinds of things don't happen to me. I don't mind really. Being the girl that the boys looked past was always okay with me. I never was one for much attention. Poor Anni is sick. She really feels like barfing. You would think that she was drinking tonight. Nothing but water. I feel badly for her. I mean, especially since there is this party going on upstairs. I think it's going to be a tough night for her.
I am glad that these neighbours are moving out this weekend. They can reak havoc on some other strangers. Actually, they are very nice people.
Drunk people are idiots, and are very rarely funny. I think my dad is the only person who is funnier when he has a few. For the most part, I am inclined to think that very nearly everyone is an idiot. And I'm most likely the biggest one of them, so i do have room to speak.
Okay....I am going to bed I think. Or at least try. Part of me is having fun listening in. It makes me feel like I'm eight years old when I used to sneak into the hallway at night to listen to what the grown-ups were talking about. Most of the people at the party are probably younger than me, yet they feel like grown-ups somehow. It makes me feel like I probably still have self-esteem issues to work out.
I think that i was hit on tonight at the show. I think, but then, these kinds of things don't happen to me. I don't mind really. Being the girl that the boys looked past was always okay with me. I never was one for much attention. Poor Anni is sick. She really feels like barfing. You would think that she was drinking tonight. Nothing but water. I feel badly for her. I mean, especially since there is this party going on upstairs. I think it's going to be a tough night for her.
I am glad that these neighbours are moving out this weekend. They can reak havoc on some other strangers. Actually, they are very nice people.
Drunk people are idiots, and are very rarely funny. I think my dad is the only person who is funnier when he has a few. For the most part, I am inclined to think that very nearly everyone is an idiot. And I'm most likely the biggest one of them, so i do have room to speak.
Okay....I am going to bed I think. Or at least try. Part of me is having fun listening in. It makes me feel like I'm eight years old when I used to sneak into the hallway at night to listen to what the grown-ups were talking about. Most of the people at the party are probably younger than me, yet they feel like grown-ups somehow. It makes me feel like I probably still have self-esteem issues to work out.
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